


Fallout

by Tarlan



Series: The Blessing [2]
Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Angst, M/M, Rape/Non-con References
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-01-03
Updated: 2006-01-03
Packaged: 2017-10-20 21:08:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 22,780
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/217117
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tarlan/pseuds/Tarlan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rodney and John must deal with the fallout from the events on Esteria.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fallout

As the head of the expedition it was her right to know the health--both mentally and physically--of all her people. Right now, Elizabeth was concerned for two of those people, the head of the military and her chief scientist. Something had occurred on Esteria and no one was talking to her. Teyla had gone to her training room and, from all accounts, she was working so hard that Elizabeth could almost believe she was punishing herself. Ford was not the high-spirited man she had come to know, hiding out in his quarters and refusing to accept visitors even among his friends. Rodney had stormed off after a terse conversation with John Sheppard in the gate room and was now with Carson Beckett somewhere in Atlantis after leaving the infirmary. And John...John was uncommunicative except about the trade agreement, and the desperately needed supplies that would arrive in two days. In Rodney's absence, he had taken it upon himself to begin organizing the equipment and men needed to fulfill the Atlantean side of the agreement.

When she read through the agreement she felt the first tremor of uneasiness steal through her. It seemed ordinary enough and tightly written except one small statement: Offer a blessing.

Elizabeth had brokered enough agreements during her political career with many different cultures to be uneasy with such an innocuous sentence. It could mean anything from raising a glass of water to sacrificing the firstborn son on each side. Either Rodney had missed this, or he had not bothered to fully specify what it meant. Neither gave her a warm feeling as wars had broken out over less. What was this blessing? Had it already been made? Or was it a condition of delivery?

She stopped and started making mental notes ticking off each event in the hope of seeing a pattern.

First, the team returned from Esteria with a trade agreement that was beneficial to both parties, although there had been a problem that required the team spending an extra night on the planet. Yet, despite a successful agreement, no one was smiling when they walked through the gate.

Secondly, Teyla could not meet her eyes, which was highly unusual for the normally so in-control and confident ex-leader of the Athosians. Ford could not meet anyone's eyes, least of all Sheppard's or McKay's. Sheppard alternated between relaxed and tense, gentle and angry, lucid and confused. He walked with a fluidity that spoke of physical well-being and yet mentally, he was wired. Rodney was the biggest enigma of them all. He had all the reasons in two galaxies to crow about his part in forming the trade agreement and yet he had returned tense and silent, right up until a quiet word from John set him off. Though she could not hear his words, she could see the tightness of his expression and she had never seen him looking so angry, confused and frightened. Not since Kolya and the storm.

Finally, John had disappeared off and Carson contacted her less than ten minutes later to ask for no interruptions--except in case of emergencies--until he contacted her again. This caused her concern because Carson cleared the infirmary, even ordering his nurses on an extended break. When the nurses returned, one of the other doctors had taken over the infirmary and Carson was last seen heading off towards his favorite balcony with Rodney and a bottle of whiskey.

Offer a blessing. Her thoughts kept returning to those three simple words.

"Elizabeth?"

She looked up and saw Carson standing on the threshold. Quickly, she indicated towards a seat and activated the privacy screens, hoping to clear up part of the mystery before she had to order Sheppard and his team in here.

"What's going on, Carson?"

"I've left the Major and Rodney alone to work out a problem."

"What problem?"

Elizabeth could see him working out the words in his head but one of the conditions of this expedition was that she would be kept informed of any problems that might affect it. This was a requirement that went beyond doctor-patient confidentiality and formed part of the disclaimer that every member of the expedition had signed before being allowed to step through the Stargate to the Pegasus galaxy. Carson reached a decision.

"Rodney was sexually abused on Esteria."

Elizabeth gasped softly and slumped back in her seat. Of all the things she had imagined, this had not been high on her list of possibilities though, in hindsight, it should have been there. In light of this revelation, the mental state of Sheppard's team was no longer in question.

"Can you tell me what happened, or do I need to speak to Rodney or the Major?"

"I can tell you, but I think you still need to see all the team...perhaps separately." He took a deep breath. "It started with Rodney missing a piece of fine print in the trade agreement."

"Offer a blessing," Elizabeth stated and saw Carson's eyes rise in surprise. "I've brokered enough trade agreements to spot these little clauses."

"Aye. The blessing." Quickly, Carson, outlined all that he had learned from Rodney, including the rape by John Sheppard, and Elizabeth closed her eyes as the full extent of those three simple words became clear.

She opened her eyes as his voice trailed off and immediately spotted Teyla hovering indecisively beyond the clear wall panels. "Looks like we have our first team member."

"I'll leave you..."

"No. I want you to stay."

Elizabeth beckoned Teyla to enter but saw that she was uncomfortable with the doctor's presence. However, Elizabeth needed him to be here for this interview.

"May I speak with you in private," asked Teyla.

"If it's about Esteria then Doctor Beckett should stay."

Teyla hesitated for a moment before taking a deep breath and sitting down on the seat beside Carson, not looking in his direction.

"I wish to return to my people...permanently."

"Running away?"

Teyla bristled at the quiet words and the implication but then her eyes lost all anger, filling with remorse and guilt. "I allowed my emotions to cloud my judgment and because of this, Doctor McKay was..." Her voice trailed off as if she could not utter the actual words. Carson answered for her, "Sexually abused," and she regarded him thoughtfully.

"I was the one who revealed McKay's inexperience with other males. Of all people, I should not have made light of the customs of others. Many Athosian customs are deeply ingrained from childhood, passed down from generation to generation for thousands of years. Some seem meaningless, twisted over generations, or the true meaning lost in time but we celebrate them anyway. The Esterians have such a custom and I misjudged the depth of their commitment to it."

"The blessing."

Teyla nodded. "Yes."

"Tell me what you know about this custom."

"From what I could gather from Gerson, upon puberty all Esterians select a partner who will assist them as they offer their virginity to their gods. I believe the male offering is to give adolescent males an outlet for their aggression, for no Esterian will take a partner of the opposite gender until they have reached 18 cycles."

"Probably a means of keeping the population under control, or reducing the risk of females dying in childbirth, which is greater within adolescence," stated Carson.

Teyla nodded. One of the anthropologists studying the culture where the population committed ritual suicide on reaching 25 years of age discovered a similar condition. In that culture, the females had a very small window for childbearing of between the end of their 19th to the start of their 24th year. This assured that they were less prone to dying in childbirth at an early age, and that no female committed ritual suicide while carrying an unborn child. It also meant that they would bear fewer children.

"I was angry with McKay, and I let this anger place him in danger."

"In danger?"

"If he had fought against their custom, they would have slain him and used his blood as the sacrifice instead."

"And Major Sheppard?"

"He had little choice but to participate. If he did not then another male would have raped Doctor McKay, and could have hurt him far worse." She looked away. "How could they ever trust me again, to guide and protect them, after what I have done?"

Elizabeth sighed. "We all make mistakes, Teyla. We all allow our emotions to rule us on occasion. I know it will be hard to rebuild trust but you have to try or you will never forgive yourself."

"I do not deserve forgiveness."

Elizabeth sighed as Teyla strode out of the office, and glanced across at Carson. "Ford next?" He nodded, agreeing that it would be better to tackle the fallout first. She leaned across her desk and asked someone to order Ford to her office.

"This is a bigger mess than I thought."

"Aye, and even getting Rodney and the Major talking is not going to make it go away sooner."

"I know."

"You do know Rodney was witness to a male rape when he was little more than a child?"

"He was?"

"Aye. His cousin was...is gay, and the attackers was none too gentle. Put the lad in hospital. So he had every reason to be terrified, and that's why I cannot find it in me to blame the Major. If anything, he probably saved Rodney's sanity by being a safe pair of arms."

"It complicates matters though," Elizabeth stated softly.

"Aye. Is it rape or not when you choose who does it? The answer is yes, except it's not the person doing the penetrating that's guilty in this case. It's the Esterians, the orchestrators of it."

Carson stopped as a familiar figure came in sight; Lieutenant Ford. He waited until Ford had taken a seat, having been persuaded that he did not need to stand to attention before Elizabeth's desk for the duration of the interview. He slouched in his seat, still unwilling to hold anyone's eyes.

"Aiden?" His head snapped up at the use of his given name rather than his rank. "We know what happened so don't ask, don't tell isn't an issue here."

"If you know what happened then why do you need to speak to me?"

"Because you're hurting, son."

Ford looked straight ahead at a spot over Elizabeth's left shoulder.

"Talk to me, Aiden." He remained silent so long that Elizabeth thought she might need to make it an order but she could see that he needed to talk to someone, and leaned forward as he started in a low voice.

"I should have stopped it...or at least offered to be the one to...to..."

"Why?"

"Because the Major's my CO, and McKay's part of my responsibility and I should have been prepared to...to take his place."

"Again, why?"

Ford's face twisted in anger, his dark eyes as hard as obsidian. "Because I've been trained to anticipate torture in many forms including sexual. McKay hasn't. I should have stepped up and offered to take his place."

"Oh, and you think that would have stopped them from raping Rodney?" Carson remarked incredulously. "Seems to me that would have simply given them the excuse for a double celebration. Yours and Rodney's asses."

Ford looked confused for a moment as Carson's words sunk in, and then he slumped in his seat in defeat. "Problem is, Doc, I never thought of it that way so it doesn't excuse my cowardice."

"If the Major had ordered you to take Rodney's place, or his, would you have done it?" Carson asked gently and gained incredulity in the dark eyes.

"Of course!"

"Then don't be so hard on yourself, laddie. Major Sheppard made his decision for all of you, Rodney included, and the fact that you all came home relatively unscathed proved it was a good one."

Ford looked at Carson with hope filling his eyes, turning to Elizabeth when she softly spoke his name.

"Aiden. I believe Teyla could use a friend right now because she is holding herself responsible for all of this."

"Why? When she realized what the Esterians wanted from McKay, she told the Major we should leave immediately. If he'd followed her advice then we'd have come back yesterday...before..."

"Would they have let you leave?" She could see Ford pondering over her question, probably reassessing the circumstances and the attitudes of the Esterians.

"If we had left right away then maybe, but later, they were all so...so...excited, watching us closely. We might have had to shoot our way out."

"There's more you're not saying, Aiden." Elizabeth could see more guilt lingering in his eyes, and he flushed hotly at her words, confirming them.

"I...Major Sheppard put me on first watch and I fell asleep. Didn't wake up until morning and, by then, it was too late. They had our weapons, and they had McKay."

"You were drugged, son. Probably in the food or water, though they might have piped in a gas that put you all out. I won't know until the lab brings back the results from your blood work."

Ford nodded and stood up. "Permission to leave and find Teyla?" he asked formally.

"Go." Elizabeth watched as he headed to the door. "Lieutenant, if it's any consolation...by his actions, the Major ensured McKay wasn't hurt badly...physically."

Ford gave a tight nod and strode away. She sank into her thoughts. "Of course, it begs the question of who do we send back to Esteria to complete our side of the agreement?"

Carson looked at her in shock. "I had not thought of that. Obviously, Rodney would be the safest bet now but I can't see him ever wanting to step foot on that world again."

"He might not have a choice," she offered softly with regret, knowing she could not allow any more of her people to fall foul of this particular custom, especially if the Esterians would consider a blood sacrifice to be of equal value.

****

John pulled back and stared deep into Rodney's eyes, constantly amazed by this man. A few short hours ago, Rodney was absolutely terrified by the mere thought of being with a man and, now, he was kissing John like he had been kissing members of the same sex for all his life. Something was wrong, because this was too good to be true and John wondered if the whiskey was doing just a little too much of the talking.

"Rodney? Are you sure you're okay with this?"

"Why shouldn't I be?"

The flicker of worry in the bright eyes that slid away from his, made John reach up to cup Rodney's face in his hands, preventing him from looking away. "I want this. I want you...but you've got to want this too, and I don't think you do right now."

Rodney pulled his head away, his lips tightening, eyes blazing. "Who gave you the right to tell me what I want and what I don't want?"

"I'm not saying that. I just think you might need a little more time to think things through before we take this any further."

"Fine."

"No it's not. Not yet...and I want it to be better than fine. I think you need to talk about this, and make sure you're doing this for the right reason."

"I said, fine."

John closed his eyes, hating the wall that Rodney had raised between them with just a single word and a look but it confirmed his suspicion that Rodney was not ready for this. Not by a long shot. He wished he'd paid closer attention in his psychology class but it was not a subject that enthralled him at the time, just a choice of minor to balance out the strictness of the math he had taken, given him a better academic portfolio for when he applied for the US Air Force. He could have used that knowledge now because his subconscious was screaming at him that Rodney's reaction was fallout from what had happened on the planet. Except, he wasn't certain how to deal with it.

He opened his eyes at the rustle of movement, sighing when Rodney strode away without a backward glance, already missing the taste and feel of him.

Rodney paced through the corridor to the transporter, swiftly changing his mind and sending it to the closest one to his laboratory. He did not want to sit in his room brooding with nothing but thoughts of John Sheppard's talented mouth and hands running through his head, especially as a small part of him knew John was right. Except, Carson was right too and it had taken the events on Esteria to open his mind and eyes to the knowledge that he wanted John Sheppard, a male, but not just any male. He tried thinking of other men: Carson, Zelenka, Ford, even Kavanagh, but felt no sparks of desire for anyone else, only for John.

Yet, if Carson was right, that he had wanted John for a long time, since before Esteria then why was John right too? He was confused, and he had been filled with confusion from the moment John touched him on that altar, sending his blood to liquid fire. Somehow, John had sensed this lingering confusion and, until Rodney figured his way through it, he knew he and John had no future.

Rodney knew of only one way to bring his chaotic thoughts to order and that was through his work. He was surprised to find Kavanagh working there alone, silently wondering if someone had forgotten to send him and Kavanagh a memo about some archaic holiday that only applied to the science community on Atlantis. Kavanagh eyed him suspiciously as Rodney made his way over to his favorite work area. The silence grew and, for once, it made Rodney uneasy, especially when Kavanagh slipped out of his seat and came to stand beside Rodney.

"Yes?" He demanded in his most unfriendly tone, hoping Kavanagh would get the hint and go away.

"Why have you got a gate constellation drawn on the side of your face?"

Rodney's hand rose of its own volition to finger the mark that had not washed away, though it had faded considerably after his shower. "A gift from the Esterians."

"Hmm." Kavanagh made to return to his laptop and the experiment he was running, probably on the environment controls because he had cornered that particular area of expertise soon after arriving on Atlantis. Not that Rodney minded as he had far too many other areas to oversee.

Perversely, considering who this was, Rodney carried on talking. "They gave me a few other glyphs too."

"Oh?"

After a moment's hesitation, Rodney stood up and pulled off his t-shirt, revealing the fading marks over his heart and hip. Kavanagh studied them from a distance, lips pursed. "I count seven glyphs. A coincidence?"

"I-I was wondering about that earlier but the number of permutations for seven glyphs is..."

"Five thousand and forty."

"Exactly."

"Unless the positions have significance."

Rodney tilted his head in thought. "If it was a gate address, then this group of seven glyphs might appear in the Ancient database, though it's not a gate we could travel to directly."

"Because the symbol for Atlantis is not among these seven, though it could reduce the number of possibilities considerably as most of the stored addresses had Atlantis in mind for the origin. I could run them."

Rodney nodded, knowing it could take some time due to the vastness of the Stargate address database, where these seven symbols represented only a fraction of those available. However, if there was significance to the positioning of each address upon his body then they might be able to limit the search through pattern matching.

"Home is the heart," he murmured, recalling a piece of Ancient Greek quoted once by Daniel Jackson that could easily have come from the Ancients who had returned to Earth ten thousand years ago.

"Home is the heart, the city, the earth and the universe," stated Kavanagh, gaining raised eyebrows from Rodney as he recognized the full quote.

Rodney nodded, eyes widening in excitement. He pointed to the symbol placed over his heart, tapping it gently. "So this could be the seventh symbol. The origin."

Kavanagh took Rodney's arm and pulled him across to the white-board. He turned Rodney's face and copied the glyph onto the board. Then he looked at Rodney's chest, hand flattening the chest hairs to get a better look at the faded symbol. "This would have been easier if you hadn't tried to scrub it off."

"My apologies. I really wasn't thinking too clearly at the time on the count of not having had a wash in two days and smelling decidedly frowzy."

"Hmm. Still, you could have waited a few more minutes. You need to drop your sweats."

"What?"

"I can't read the glyphs. They go beneath the waistband."

"Oh...Maybe if I just pull the waist down a fraction."

Kavanagh gave an irritated sigh and knelt down, taking a notepad with him, and Rodney had to force himself not to flinch every time Kavanagh's fingers pulled or traced over his flesh.

"I gather you don't recall the order in which they wrote these."

"I wasn't exactly conscious at the time."

Relief poured through him when Kavanagh finally stood up and turned to the white-board, and Rodney watched as he copied the glyphs across. They both stepped back and stared at the set, recognizing only five glyphs out of the seven.

"And you're sure there was no other."

Rodney opened his mouth to say yes but faltered. "Reasonably."

"Turn around."

 _Bend over, and think of Canada._ The words mocked him but he did as Kavanagh asked, enduring the touch on his back and the soft murmurings that said Kavanagh had found nothing there. He did flinch, though, when Kavanagh pulled down his pants, revealing his bare ass, which Kavanagh inspected a little too closely for Rodney's comfort.

"No...Nothing. Just the seven symbols. So if it does symbolize a gate address then it's local."

Rodney straightened his clothing, trying to hide the embarrassment and momentary fear, recalling the feel of hands stripping the clothes from his body while he lay paralyzed but still more than half aware from whatever drug they had given him. That terrible sensation of paralysis had been all too familiar from the wraith stunner blast he had taken in the face several months back; the feeling of helplessness, of vulnerability. John had been there when he awoke that first time in the infirmary, but Rodney had been among strangers on Esteria; strangers who touched him with unwanted intimacy, scrubbing at his hair and body before rubbing light oil upon every inch of his flesh. He recalled the pain as the glyphs were applied, wondering whether the paint had acidic properties, which would explain why they had not come off with just a few layers of his epidermis.

He shied away from the rest, forcing the memories aside and focusing, instead, on the science before him, not wanting to deal with the fallout from his ordeal just yet.

He knew Kavanagh had wondered if this address was another eight figure one that would take them to another galaxy, or another part of their home galaxy. The mystery, though, was why the Esterians etched it onto those about to be blessed. Then it struck him. The home glyph was not the home symbol for Esteria either so, if he was right and that was the seventh symbol then it was not an address on the Esterian gate either. Yet he had seen that glyph somewhere before.

"I'll run this with that seventh symbol in place. It should cut down the processing time."

"Good. Good. I'm...going back to my room. I didn't sleep too well last night."

As soon as the words left his mouth he saw Kavanagh raise his eyebrows because Rodney was not prone to telling Kavanagh anything that did not relate to work, and certainly never engaged in any small talk with him. He reached the door before Kavanagh called out to him.

"Are you all right, McKay?"

"I'm fine. Just peachy." He walked away as quickly as possible.

****

"Major? We need to talk."

She watched as John schooled his expression to polite and attentive but Elizabeth was not fooled. She could see the lines of tension around his eyes as he followed her into her office and slumped into a seat.

"How's Rodney?"

John looked at her carefully for a fraction of a second too long, long enough for her to know he was wondering why she was asking him about Rodney McKay. He seemed to come to some swift internal decision not to deny that he had talked to Rodney since their altercation in the gate room.

"He seemed fine-"

"John, I know about the...incident."

She almost said rape before realizing how that might sound to the man who had become a main participant in that act in order to save Rodney from far worse. John took on a guarded expression, neither denying nor trying to explain the part he had played, reminding her of when he had admitted to killing Colonel Sumner. Ford had backed him up, although it took the return of Gall and Abram's ravaged bodies for her to truly understand why Sumner's death had been the only available option open to him. He had that same expression on his face now. One that said, I did what I had to do. Yet, though he might not wish to admit it, he was just as much a victim as Rodney, coerced into an act of rape out of a sense of duty to a team member...a friend. Neither Teyla nor Ford had gone into any great detail but Teyla had been convinced that John had made a difference for Rodney, and Carson confirmed that the physical damage was minimal, with no obvious signs of forced penetration.

"You need to talk about what happened."

The aloofness shattered. "And say what? That I raped him?" John leaned back, eyes darkening in anger. "They had six men lined up, ready and willing to rape McKay. Six men who saw him as nothing more than a piece of virgin ass for them to screw into their altar stone...and he was scared. No...He was terrified." He leaned back in towards her. "Do you think they would have taken the time to reassure him? Do you think they would have cared enough to get him relaxed before they fucked him raw? They would have torn him up inside and out now matter how much preparation they thought they'd already done to loosen him up."

"I don't understa--"

John slumped back again, his voice softer. "He'd already been raped before they dragged him onto that altar." He held up a hand to forestall Elizabeth's next words. "Not in that way...but from where I come from, even their preparation was rape." He was breathing hard, raggedly; he shook his head, no longer able to meet her eyes. "I thought I was doing the right thing...but maybe I just made things worse."

"Teyla doesn't believe so, and neither does Carson. You didn't rape him, John. The Esterians did, and if we didn't need those supplies so badly I would have Grodin lock that gate address out of the database...and to hell with the agreement."

"And then Rodney would have gone through all that for nothing," he stated almost in a monotone but Elizabeth could sense the raw emotion lying just beneath the surface.

"I know."

"It stinks. It all stinks."

"I know."

She knew there was more that he was hiding but, unlike with Ford, she knew he would not reveal what it was until he was good and ready, if ever. He climbed to his feet and walked out the door with barely a backward glance, and Elizabeth felt disinclined to stop him. They all needed a little time now, to sort out the events on Esteria and figure out the best way forward for everyone.

****

Watching Rodney from afar was more painful than John had ever imagined. Being bisexual meant he had always been aware of Rodney on some subliminal, sexual level but now he had physical memories to add to the stimulation. If he closed his eyes, he could feel the warm flesh beneath his fingers, and beneath his body. He could still taste the salt of sweat and fear from when his lips brushed over that warm flesh. If he listened hard enough he could hear the soft whimper of pleasure mingling with pain as he stroked Rodney to climax. Rodney's release had coated his fingers as the musk of male sex filled the air, trapped for a moment by their bodies before it was caught on the breeze and lifted away with his own cry of pleasure.

He wanted all of that again with Rodney but without the fear, and without the audience. He wanted to share all that he was and all that he could be with Rodney, and the depth of that need stunned him.

The tactile sensations, of touching, caressing and simply holding Rodney, had freed him of whatever inhibitions had kept him from seeking a relationship. Yet, now he was uncertain if his actions on Esteria had damaged all chances of that ever happening. For all he knew, Rodney's sudden desire for him might simply be a defensive trigger, like the clichéd damsel in distress falling hard for her knight in shining armor.

Such a romantic notion but it left a dark question hanging over them. Was it real or simply self-preservation instincts working through a traumatized mind?

Neither of them could be a judge of that so soon after the event. They both needed time to assess the damage and see if anything could be salvaged from the mess. They both needed to talk through their experience, to face the harsh reality and decide if this should become the start of something new and wonderful between them--or if this should be something to push back into the deepest, darkest recesses of their minds, never to see the light of day again.

Of course, everything he could recall from psychology classes said it was unhealthy to bury emotions, and that it was better to draw them out into the open and face them rather than allow them to fester. Yet John had never been all that good at facing his demons, and he had plenty of them hiding in the dark corners of his mind. Of course, even if he was inclined to talk, another problem was who could he trust with those feelings?

People liked him. He knew he had an easygoing nature but the very aura that drew people in also formed an almost impenetrable barrier that few ever managed to cross. When he thought of all the people he knew here on Atlantis, he could think of only one person that he could have opened up to, and that man was beyond his reach right now, caught up in his own dilemma and confusion.

For a moment, John toyed with the idea of seeking professional help with Heightmeyer but he did not feel comfortable with the woman. No doubt, she was good at her job but something about the way she looked at him made him think of a black widow spider eyeing up its next conquest--and meal.

As he sat alone at his table in the Commissary, nursing his rapidly cooling cup of pseudo-coffee, he barely noticed the other people around him. Rodney had stayed only long enough to heat an MRE, though John had felt a little hope rise and fall when he saw Rodney glance quickly in his direction, reading the silent longing in his eyes before confusion stole him away again.

The scrape of the chair opposite dragged him back from his maudlin state and he tensed before looking up, half expecting to see Heightmeyer. The woman had a knack for choosing the wrong times to approach him, though John knew he was being a little harsh because there was never a good time for her. He raised both eyebrows when Beckett sank down into the seat opposite.

The doctor sighed, drawing his cup close and sniffing at it, his nose wrinkling at the less than pleasant smell that wafted across the table. John eyed him carefully, instantly on guard.

"I made the mistake of asking for one of those herbal teas," Beckett stated, and sniffed again. "Or maybe not. It smells almost medicinal." He looked up, his blue eyes soft and friendly. "Maybe it has some medical benefit, like willow bark tea."

John relaxed a little within Beckett's easy company. The gentle Scot was the first person he had met after O'Neill ordered him inside what John had believed to be just another Antarctic research station...and he had liked him from the outset. He was kind and considerate yet fiercely protective of his friends and patients, as John had discovered over these months.

On that same day, he saw Rodney McKay for the first time. It was Rodney's eyes and hands that caught his attention first. Those hands moved with elegance as they described his thoughts with such clarity, and those deep blue eyes were full of wonder, excitement and intelligence. Yet he was disgruntled too that yet another person had naturally, the one thing he craved; the ATA gene.

John had teased him from the start, enjoying the reaction he gained. He loved trying to fluster or flummox the genius...and Rodney was a genius, unlike others who made similar proclamations to anyone within earshot; a genius who had captivated him with those hands and eyes, and with that incredible brain.

He swallowed another mouthful of cold pseudo-coffee as he watched the steam curling from Beckett's mug, deciding to change the direction of his thoughts before they dropped back into maudlin.

"Didn't they use teas to reduce fever and pain in the Old West?"

"Aye, and in other cultures too. The Métis in Canada and the Celts and druids had natural remedies made from boiling roots, leaves, flowers and even tree bark. Stuff tasted pretty foul if I remember rightly." He raised his tea and took another sip, grimacing. "Though, if tasting foul is a prerequisite for good medicine then I'd better check this one out in my laboratory. God knows we could use something to replace the dwindling medical supplies."

John nodded yet despite his worst fears at the time, they had not lost that many supplies to the Genii during the storm. Beckett had wanted to be overcautious in case Rodney could not save Atlantis, and had packed the jumpers with all the non-replaceable items. He had figured, quite rightly, that they could always scavenge and hunt for food and water, and that they could build shelters out of mud and sticks if need be, but that they could not synthesize some of the drugs or build the delicate scanners and electronic microscopes.

All the Genii managed to take were sterile field dressings and common drugs that were easy to synthesize even without the amazing labs in Atlantis. John had been more than just a little relieved at the time, though Rodney staying alive and saving the city had gone a long way to easing his guilt at losing two of his men and a few crates of bandages.

John relaxed when Beckett fell silent again, still sipping at the tea and grimacing with each mouthful swallowed. Beckett was Rodney's friend, though most would consider them a mismatched pair, focusing on the bickering that bordered on hostile but was, in fact, good-natured. Rodney could be a bit of a bully but Beckett seemed to disarm him with a stern but gentle word. He would laugh at Rodney when he was being an ass, give him a swift kick when he needed it, or simply be there with a comforting smile and a shot of whiskey when Rodney needed a friend.

That thought made John blink because he never realized that Beckett...that Carson treated him the same way. Never pushing, never prying unless he had to--simply being there even if John did not want to talk.

He gave a wry smile. "Thanks for the whiskey." He did not bother to mention that Carson's ploy to get him and Rodney talking had backfired, leaving them estranged.

"Figured you needed a wee dram more than me."

John felt one corner of his mouth lifting into a grateful smile, almost against his wishes as he had not thought he had anything left to smile about. He could not quite dispel the melancholy that clung to him, almost wishing that the wee dram had been the entire bottle so he could drown his misery and, if only for a short while, simply forget what had happened.

"I know I'm not in the same league as Kate...but if you ever need a shoulder to lean on, or a friendly face to talk to, my door's always open to a friend."

John gave an unhappy laugh. "You might regret making that offer."

Carson's gentle smile told him that would never be the case and that this was not an offer he made lightly despite his position as chief medical officer on Atlantis. John frowned, part of him desperate to take some of the weight of his thoughts off his mind while another part hated the idea of being so exposed and vulnerable. Desperation won out.

"Any time?"

"Any time," Carson echoed.

"Even now?"

Carson smiled. "Aye. Even now." He stood up and waited, looking down at John without any pressure or urgency on his face. John nodded and stood up. Together, they left the Commissary, leaving the remnants of the cold pseudo-coffee and hot yet disgusting tea behind.

****

Rodney woke with a start when the chime on his door sounded. He rubbed sleep-filled eyes and pushed away from his desk, grimacing at the drool he had left on the desktop. He had not meant to fall asleep but the pathetic excuse for coffee being served up in the Commissary seemed devoid of the most essential ingredient: caffeine.

Thoughts of the Commissary brought back images of John sitting alone, nursing a mug. He had wanted so much to go to him, to sit down and talk. Maybe they could try to wipe away the memories and pretend nothing had happened on Esteria. He would do that willingly if it meant he could have his friend back.

Yet, that was another source of his confusion because he had not realized that John was his friend--his best friend--until he lost him. He had spent his whole life sharpening his sarcasm to a fine edge just to combat the nasty comments and snide remarks from people intimidated by his intelligence but, at some time over the past months, he had stopped seeing the teasing as derision on John's part. He had started to look forward to the thrust and parry of words between them, having met his match with John and those laconic responses that were subtle on so many levels that a person of ordinary intelligence might not even realize they had just been insulted.

The chime sounded again, along with a sharp rap on the door.

Swiftly, Rodney swiped at the drool with a bundled up t-shirt he found on the floor, making a silent promise to collect all his dirty washing together and get it sorted before he ran out of clothes to wear. He gave the mental command to open the door and Grodin stepped in.

"Kavanagh is running a search against the Stargate address database that is eating up all the available resources. He said you gave him permission."

Rodney frowned as his tired and confused mind struggled to wake up without the assistance of large doses of caffeine. Then he remembered discussing the glyphs with Kavanagh in his laboratory several hours earlier.

"Yes...yes I did."

Grodin's eyes widened in shock and Rodney scowled because Kavanagh was the last person he would normally work with, and Grodin knew it.

"What's he searching for?"

"A gate address," Rodney answered with a slight roll of his eyes at the stupid question.

Grodin tightened his lips. "I think I could have determined that by myself. What gate address?"

Rodney considered being obtuse but Grodin was actually one of the more intelligent scientists on the expedition, and did not cause half as much grief as others he could mention...and frequently did mention in his rants to John and Elizabeth.

"The Esterians gave me a little body art." He pointed to the fading glyph on his temple.

"Seven symbols?"

"Yes. Spread over parts of my anatomy and, no, I'm not going to show you the rest."

"Thank God!"

Rodney was not certain if he ought to take that as an insult.

"Only seven? You did check every-"

"Oh, I can safely say that Kavanagh was quite thorough in his search for glyphs," Rodney replied with a grimace.

Grodin pulled a face that bordered on disgust. "That's a little more information than I can stomach this close to dinner time."

Rodney felt the color drain from his face, wondering if Grodin was disgusted by him. Atlantis was such a small community and the rumor mill worked at amazing speed. What if someone had overheard a conversation about what had happened to him on Esteria? What if this news was now traveling Atlantis at the speed of light, igniting the gossip machine and eroding what little respect he had gained since coming to the Pegasus galaxy?

"Are you alright?"

Rodney looked across at him, expecting see disdain but finding genuine concern instead. Suddenly, he felt lightheaded, the room spinning before him. Strong arms grabbed for him and he tried to pull away but they held on tight and pushed him towards his bed. He sat down on the edge as his knees buckled beneath him.

"Stay there. I'll call Dr. Beckett."

"No! No. Just need a moment to-" but Grodin was not listening. Instead he was calling in a medical emergency, asking for Beckett.

****

John leaned on the balcony rail, staring out across the spires of the city to the blue water beyond that stretched to the horizon, slowly darkening now the sun had set. He toyed with the glass in his hand before taking another sip, feeling the burn and hoping Carson had another bottle of whiskey stashed away because he had a feeling he and Rodney were making quite a dent in this one. John gave a wry smile, knowing what he planned to ask the SGC to send if they ever regained contact with Earth. He turned to face Carson, who had nursed only a single shot the entire time in case he was called back to duty.

They had spoken for the best part of an hour, or rather, John had talked and Carson had listened. Once in a while, though, Carson had added a thought or an insight, or pressed for clarification in that easy way of his. Yet, what John recalled most from Carson's words were the not so subtle references to Rodney McKay. They eased his mind, erasing any the doubts that Rodney's desire for him had spawned solely from his rape.

It was hard to believe that Rodney might have wanted him for months, long before they had even heard of Esteria and its blessing. He wondered how two intelligent people, such as he and Rodney, could miss all the signs and said as much aloud.

"My mother used to say, there's none so blind as them that do not wish to see." Carson paused in thought, eyeing John carefully. "I can understand Rodney being a little nearsighted. He's had some trauma in his life. His family either couldn't or wouldn't understand him, and being pushed up the grades rather than being sent to a special school left him socially isolated. Too emotionally immature for his intellectual peers, misunderstood by those of his own age, and resented on all sides because of his intelligence, but-"

"But you can't understand me," John finished. He turned back to gaze upwards at the sky and the freedom it had always represented to him. "I suppose he just kind of sneaked up on me."

Carson laughed. "Aye, that's our Rodney. Starts off as a royal pain in the arse but, before you know it, he's grown on you."

"Like fungus."

"No...That's Kavanagh."

John glanced back with a grin, feeling more at peace now than he had in months. He had not realized just how unsettled he had been, especially around Rodney, caught between conflicting needs, thoughts and desires. Esteria had merely brought that hidden conflict to the surface. Now, all he had to do was take Carson's advice and use the same gentle approach with Rodney's mind as he had with his body on Esteria, and let Rodney know that he had nothing to fear.

He could do that.

His smile faded when Carson answered a call on his radio, becoming nervous when Carson looked at him in concern.

"I'll be right there." He stood up. "That was Grodin. Rodney collapsed."

"I'm coming with you."

****

Rodney shoved aside the hands that poked and prodded at him. "Haven't you got anything better to do? I feel fine."

"And he sounds fine too," commented John sarcastically but no one smiled. Everyone wore a similar concerned expression because there was nothing fine about feeling dizzy, collapsing and going into convulsions. John recalled his shock upon entering Rodney's room at a run with Carson...

Grodin had been close to panicking by the time they arrived, unsure whether he should stand back or hold Rodney down as his body convulsed on the bed. He opted for the barest minimum of restraint, purely to keep Rodney from slamming his head against the back wall or against one of the bedside cabinets but the relief on his face when Carson ran through the door was so strong it was almost palpable. Carson took over immediately, grabbing a pillow and using it as a buffer between Rodney and the wall while ordering John and Grodin to drag away anything hazardous. The convulsions stopped suddenly and John could only stand and watch impotently as Carson rolled Rodney into the recovery position, wiping the pinkish froth from Rodney's mouth, all the while sending orders through to his staff to get a gurney there immediately.

"What the hell happened here?" John asked once Carson stopped talking on the radio.

"I don't know but I'm bloody well going to find out."

Less than twenty minutes later, Rodney was both awake and very annoyed at finding himself on a bed in the infirmary. The fact that he did not have a clue how he got there seemed immaterial. He wanted out, and he wanted out now. John could hear the exasperation in Carson's voice as he tried to reason with him.

"Rodney, you had a seizure so for your own safety, I'm not letting you out of here until I'm certain all is fine."

"It is fine, so this patient is out of here," Rodney stated through gritted teeth, trying to rise from the bed.

That made John more nervous because Rodney usually had to be prised out of the infirmary with a crowbar rather than the other way around, attesting to the seriousness of his condition. If Rodney was trying to get out of the infirmary then Rodney was feeling pretty scared about the entire episode, resorting to the maybe if I ignore it, it would go away tactic that had failed him so miserably in the past but always seemed worth another try.

"Oh? And where did you get your license to practice medicine?" He glared down at Rodney when Rodney's lips tightened. "You're not going any place until I say so, so you might as well make yourself comfortable."

Rodney sank back with an exhausted sigh, his eyes flicking towards John almost shamefully, as if he expected John to be annoyed with him. In truth, he was annoyed but not with Rodney. Carson should have foreseen something like this occurring. He should never have let Rodney leave the infirmary after the initial check-up and certainly should not have given him alcohol until he was absolutely certain Rodney was not suffering from any after effects of whatever drugs the Esterians had pumped into him. Carson was ordering up an X-ray and MRI to check for any neurological damage while a nurse took yet another blood sample from Rodney, much to Rodney's continued annoyance.

"Vampires," he mumbled but even that remark could not put a twitch of a smile back on John's face.

The nurse returned with a report on the blood sample taken fifteen minutes earlier, and she handed it to Carson. He read it, shaking his head, with his forehead creasing in frustration as he moved aside to consult with another one of the doctor's. They talked quietly, too quietly for John to make out what was passing between them. Carson returned and stood over Rodney, who had taken up his usual irritated, crossed-armed pose with accompanying glare, although the full effect was lost because of his prone position.

"Apart from a little alcohol still in your blood stream, the tests have come back negative...again. Even those minimal traces of the drugs they'd used to keep you sedated have long gone. I've no clue why you had the seizure so I want to do a full head series."

Rodney paled at his words and John could understand why. An MRI took anything from between twenty minutes and hour to complete, and during that time he would need to keep very still in a small, almost claustrophobic space, probably under sedation. Normally, that would be bad enough for someone like Rodney who had a problem staying still but, in addition, the Esterians had used some sort of paralyzing agent on Rodney to keep him just on the edge of awareness but unable to stop what was happening to him. Submitting to an MRI would merely add to that recent trauma.

According to Carson, the Esterian drug also had properties in common with Rohypnol, the date rape drug, but he had seemed so certain the effects had started to wear off by the time they brought Rodney out for the so-called blessing. As Carson had said at the time, "You said so yourself, Major. He was terrified, and a terrified man is not going to react beyond the basic autonomous response to external stimuli unless he was drugged, but if he was drugged then he would not have been terrified in the first place. He would have been...a zombie."

A drug like Rohypnol took away control, affecting the ability to consent to what happened and if that drug had still been in Rodney's bloodstream then his response to John would have been yet another form of abuse, this time perpetrated by John. Carson's words had eased John's doubts that he had managed to turn a terrifying ordeal into a pleasurable act, for Rodney had not been a zombie and, certainly, he had been terrified at first, slowly relaxing under John's gentle words and caresses.

John felt a twinge of guilt as he looked across at Carson. He had learned all of this from Carson barely half an hour ago and yet he had been so quick, now, to negate all that Carson had said to him. However, if Rodney's seizure was not a residual effect of the drugs then what could it be?

"We'll start with the head X-ray," he added, patting Rodney on one tense shoulder.

John leaned against the wall and stared morosely at the man he wanted to call his lover. As if sensing him, Rodney flicked his eyes towards him, and the unspoken fear in them, cleverly concealed behind the irritation, caught at John's heart. He nodded his head to Rodney, silently promising that he would stick around for the tests, and saw relief in those blue eyes before they dropped away.

****

Kavanagh saw Grodin enter the control room but ignored him, a small but triumphant smile crossing his face. He had told Grodin to take up his complaint with McKay and, judging by the man's silence, Grodin had not only done so but discovered that McKay had agreed to the resource expenditure. He looked up when he sensed Grodin's approach, the snide remark tingling on his tip of his tongue, waiting to fall but, rather than looking frustrated and annoyed, Grodin looked worried and distracted.

"How far through is it?"

Kavanagh knew Grodin was referring to the pattern search through the gate address database and answered tersely. "92 percent."

The normally stiff-lipped Brit sank into a seat close to Kavanagh, staring at the display with its gate addresses flashing across the screen far too fast for the human eye to catch even an outline. Occasionally, it would almost freeze for a split second, the strange symbols scrolling slowly by before speeding up again, as if it had stopped momentarily just to catch its breath. Which was a pathetic analogy, Kavanagh thought, but he could think of none better while he waited.

"How many hits so far?"

"Two hundred and twelve."

"Hmm...that's a far cry from five thousand and forty."

Kavanagh raised his eyebrows. "We gambled on one specific glyph being the home symbol but there are still too many to check out manually, so this is probably a waste of time."

"Perhaps...but there must have been something special about that gate address for the Esterians to paint it on him in the first place. Any idea where the home gate could be?"

"No idea."

"Perhaps we can get Sheppard into the Chair and see if he can dig out that information from the Ancient database."

They fell into a silence that seemed less strained than of late, especially since Ford had let everyone know that he had spent his letters to home session informing the SGC of the incompetence of Weir and the others, and of McKay in particular. It was not as if Grodin actually liked McKay either. He had heard the man speak disdainfully about their so-called chief scientist on numerous occasions, and McKay was quick enough to insult Grodin in return. Though, if there was such great animosity between them, then why would the two even consider sitting together in an otherwise empty commissary when neither made any friendly overtures towards him on similar occasions. He ignored that pang of annoyance. Perhaps both men were not quite as self-sufficient as they appeared to be. Certainly, McKay seemed to thrive in company, if only so he could have an audience to laud his genius over, which would explain why McKay preferred the company of Sheppard, Ford and even that Athosian woman, Teyla, over his peers. Two military grunts and a peasant from a backward world. Not too much competition for his seeming brilliance there. He smiled at the thought, which brought him to another thought that had crossed his mind while he sat here waiting for results.

"I was wondering why they felt the need to paint it on McKay, but not on the others." He leaned back. "Of course, they probably recognized that McKay was the intellectual superior to the likes of Sheppard and Ford."

"Sheppard's not as intellectually challenged as he makes out." Grodin stated abruptly. "Though, I'm starting to wonder if that last mission has any connection to McKay having a seizure."

Kavanagh straightened and looked at Grodin, faintly disturbed by his words. "A seizure?"

"Thank God I had already started calling in a medical emergency when it happened."

"What kind of seizure? A heart attack?"

Grodin seemed to shake out of his distraction. "No. More like an epileptic fit. Frightened the life out of me. I can tell you, I've never been so pleased to see Beckett in all my life."

"92.5 percent."

Grodin leaned over. "And still only two hundred and twelve hits." He sat back again. "Could it be a clue left by the Ancients leading to another ZPM? God knows we could use one of them right now."

"Especially as McKay lost the last one to a bunch of peasants," sneered Kavanagh, having heard all about the mess Sheppard's team had got into with that Kolya and the Brotherhood.

"Overheard Sheppard mention to Dr. Weir that they'd almost got it to the gate when they were surrounded and the ZPM taken."

"Probably worshiping it in some pathetic temple. Oh, look at the glowing light. Praise be to the gods on high," he mimicked irreverently, waving his hands. Grodin snorted but they both knew that losing that ZPM was a disaster they could ill afford, especially with the Wraith less than three weeks away from Atlantis. They sat in silence for a while longer.

"Where's McKay now?"

"Infirmary. Beckett seemed totally flummoxed."

"He didn't look so good when I saw him."

"Beckett?"

"McKay."

Grodin gave a noncommittal response, and then added, "93 percent."

****

"Well, I'll be..." Carson turned to his nurse. "Forget the MRI. I want to check this out first."

John stepped up and looked at the X-ray, momentarily caught up in fascination that this was Rodney's skull laid open by the wonders of science, and then he saw the bright spot that had drawn Carson's attention.

"What is that?"

"That...is something in Rodney's nasal cavity. And before you ask...no, it was not there when I ran a full medical check on him two months back." He looked intently at Rodney. "Do you remember if the Esterians--"

"I think I'd remember if someone shoved something that big up my nose."

"Aye, under normal circumstances, but the drugs might have had you slipping in and out of consciousness."

"More to the point. Can you get it out?"

"Aye. I believe so, though it won't be pleasant." Carson became a whirlwind of activity, galvanizing nurses and doctors into action, having made the decision to make the attempt with Rodney awake rather than risk a general anesthetic. "Going to have to keep your head still, Rodney." Carson looked up. "Perhaps the Major could help."

John nodded and helped Rodney to the operating table where Carson and his team had more room to maneuver. He moved to the end and placed his hands to the sides of Rodney's face, keeping Rodney's head tilted back and immobile. Rodney looked up at him, the blue eyes darkened in anxiety, and John smiled down at him in reassurance, gaining a watery smile in response.

"Not every day you get a team of doctors to pick your nose for you," John offered with a lopsided grin.

"That's gross," but some of the tension left Rodney when he heard Carson sniggering too. "Normally, I'm too busy wiping their snotty noses for them."

"Okay. I want you to remain as still as you can. It won't hurt--"

"If you tell me it's not going to hurt a bit--"

"--as much," Carson continued. He picked up a long, fine instrument and approached Rodney. Rodney went as white as a sheet, his eyes darting back up to John.

"Best if you kept your eyes focused on me," John stated solemnly, taking every ounce of control not to flinch when Rodney's eyes went from fear to pain-filled. It seemed to take forever before Carson withdrew the implement and relief filled the tear-glistened, cerulean eyes. John let go of Rodney's head, offering another reassuring grin before he stepped back to see what Carson had removed.

"Any idea what it is, Major?"

"Doesn't look Ancient. Could be Wraith."

"What we need is a physicist who's familiar with both technologies," Rodney remarked from the operating table, where he had raised himself to a seated position, and both men turned to him. He snapped his fingers. "Oh wait. We do have one," Rodney snarked.

Carson exchanged a barely concealed grin with John at, seemingly, forgetting all about Rodney but John knew it was just a ploy to quickly take Rodney's mind off what had just happened to him.

"Sorry, Rodney. Would you care to take a look at what I found up your nose?"

Rodney's eyes narrowed, as if he was not certain if he was being teased or not. He took the kidney-shaped dish from Carson and studied the small, mucky looking object, his eyes widening.

"It's Wraith." He started to rise. "I need to get this to the lab--"

"Oh no you don't." Carson grabbed him by one arm. "You're going back to the infirmary now, where I can keep you under observation overnight."

"It might have escaped your attention out in the Boondocks of Atlantis, but we have a fleet of Wraith hive ships breathing down our necks and a serious shortage of food. Personally, I'm not certain which would be worse, starving to death or having the life sucked out me but--"

"Personally," John stressed, "I'd prefer to see the Wraith starve rather than you, Rodney."

"Be a lot quieter about it," murmured Carson just loud enough for Rodney to hear.

"Oh yes, very funny. Let's all mock the invalid."

"Thought you said you were fine, Rodney?"

"Obviously, I was fine before you discovered a Wraith device stuffed up my nose. It could have done immeasurable damage while it was up there. And what if removing it has triggered cancer, as in the X-Files?"

"You watched the X-Files?" Carson asked with a little surprise.

"Thought you were more of a Star Trek kind of guy," smirked John.

"A Trekkie," exclaimed Carson.

"Don't insult me, Beckett." Rodney took another two steps before glancing back. "Grodin was the Trekkie, right down to the plastic ears. I have the pictures to prove it."

John exchanged a smug grin with Carson. This was more like the Rodney he knew and loved.

Loved?

His grin faltered for a moment as that thought struck him but he realized it was a little too late in the game to start playing Denial. Plus, he could think of far worse people to fall in love with. Admittedly, he could also think of far better but then he realized that by better he meant simpler, and when had he ever taken the easy road?

****

Zelenka studied the object carefully, shaking his head and muttering in his native tongue. Finally he looked up at Elizabeth and Major Sheppard.

"This is bad."

"Is that bad as in... _What's this mucus on my fingers?_ bad or we're all going to die bad?"

"I am sorry?"

Zelenka had the same confused expression that Rodney would sport when John baited him, making Elizabeth realized how easily the Major managed to confuse her scientists. She pursed her lips to prevent a smile as Zelenka stared at his sticky fingers, rubbing them together. If circumstances had been different then she would have enjoyed the teasing but she needed to know what this Wraith device had been doing to Rodney.

"This mucus? Where did device come from?"

"I think it's better if I don't answer that," John responded, and Zelenka started to look very worried, staring at the object as if it might leap off the petri dish and bite him. He wiped his hand on his lab coat, surreptitiously.

"O...kay." Zelenka pushed his glasses up his nose and stared at Elizabeth through them, the lenses making his eyes look very large and very blue. "Device is of Wraith design. It is biometric sensor, like...like...electronic...erhh...tag put on wild animals."

Elizabeth recalled one of the biologists discussing how he had tagged several baby seals as part of his doctorate, monitoring their physical condition as they grew to adulthood, or died through natural causes. The electronic tag would send a signal that would bounce off a satellite and back to his computer, also allowing him to track each individual pup.

"Does it transmit data?"

"Yes...but as far as I can determine, this is not continuous output stream."

"Once an Esterian day perhaps?" John asked.

Zelenka dived into his laptop and pulled up some data concerning the planet John's team had visited. His eyebrows rose, eyes wide in surprise as he looked back up at John over the top of his glasses.

"Time interval is same...Yes."

"And that time would equate to when exactly, in Atlantis time?"

Elizabeth saw where this was heading and awaited the answer with morbid interest. Zelenka double checked his calculations.

"The last transmission would have been approximately--"

"One hour and fifteen minutes ago."

"Yes," Zelenka confirmed, surprised once more. "How do you know this?"

"Because--"

"That's when Rodney had his seizure," Elizabeth stated softly.

"This was inside Rodney?" Zelenka indicated towards the small Wraith device. He swore in Czech. "This device is meant for ordinary humans, not for those with ATA gene, not even artificial ATA gene like Rodney's. Neurological inhibitors used to dampen the effects of the transmission are not present in ATA carriers. This would melt his brain if..." His words tailed off in horror, eyes widening in fear. "Where is Rodney?"

"He's in the infirmary, but he's okay," John added quickly. "Tired...but he looked, and sounded fine when I left him there ten minutes ago."

Zelenka looked incredibly relieved at John's words. "Then Rodney is lucky he is still alive. In Rodney, this device would cause brain seizure with damage more severe with each transmission until...boom." He mimed an exploding head.

"Would it also tell the Wraith that they had someone with the Ancient gene?" Elizabeth had to ask because of the incident with Teyla's necklace.

"Possibly."

"Possibly?" John raised one eyebrow, in query.

Zelenka gave a half shrug. "Most likely."

"Then we may have a problem," he stated.

"The trade agreement." Elizabeth folded her arms across her chest as her thoughts turned to the Esterians. Were they even aware of the purpose of the device they had implanted into Rodney? And if they were aware that this was a means for the Wraith to monitor their livestock of humans then was there a more sinister reason behind their actions? Were they hoping to lead the Wraith away from their own people by handing them the means to locate other non-Esterians, such as Rodney McKay? She realized that if Rodney had not shown an adverse reaction to the device then it might have been several months before Carson spotted it during a routine scan.

John interrupted her thoughts.

"I need to speak to Teyla. She had more interaction with the Esterians. Maybe they mentioned something about the Wraith to her."

"I know you wanted to give everyone a little more time but I believe we should have that full team debriefing as a matter of urgency."

John nodded, seeing the sense in that under the circumstances. She knew it would give them all a chance to talk through what had happened, though Elizabeth was conscious of the fact that John was not certain if any of them were ready to talk yet, especially Rodney. However, if the Esterians were setting them up as a snack for the Wraith then they needed to be prepared before returning to the planet to fulfill the trade agreement, except that very much depended on whether she was willing to take such a risk in light of what they had uncovered so far.

"Dr. Zelenka? I want you and Dr. Beckett to attend as well. Bring everything you learn about this device with you...in one hour."

****

Rodney was tired. Despite his claims, he really was not fine. He was bone weary and his head felt as if someone was working a trip hammer inside it. The pain throbbed with every pulse but Carson had refused to give him anything stronger than Tylenol. As he walked along the corridor beside Carson, he wished he had insisted on a wheelchair.

"Are we taking the scenic route?" he asked testily, almost certain the distance between the infirmary and the briefing room was not as far as this the last time he had made the journey.

Carson frowned and pulled them both to a stop, his eyes taking on that professional detachment as he looked at Rodney's face closely. "You do look a little peaky."

"Peaky? Oh, is that another proper medical term or something your grandmother made up? Because I'd really like to know if the medical definition for peaky matches my current condition."

Carson slapped Rodney on the arm, smirking. "We're almost there, Rodney, so if you just hang on--" He broke off as he spotted someone over Rodney's shoulder. "Major Sheppard!"

Rodney tensed as he felt John's presence right behind him.

"Carson," John intoned softly before stepping round to look at Rodney. Rodney could almost see his name forming on John's lips in worry before they stretched into a small but reassuring smile.

"Major, perhaps you can help me get Rodney to the briefing room. He's looking a little peaky," Carson added with a smirk.

Strangely, John did not join in with the humor, his eyes taking on a greater look of concern, and his eyebrows rising fractionally. "Peaky? You feeling okay, Rodney?"

Rodney huffed. "Never better. Of course, Carson's navigational skills seem to be on par with yours, Major, necessitating in us wandering through half of Atlantis while he finds his bearings."

"Once, Rodney. I lost my bearings once," John replied with indignation, recalling the EM field that had caused the jumper to crash land on the planet with all the kids.

"If Teyla hadn't been there then we'd probably still be stumbling around in the woods looking for the Stargate."

"Well, I seem to recall being a little preoccupied at the time to take note of the passing scenery...like preventing us from becoming a big red smear on the face of a mountain."

"Excuses, excuses," Rodney waved a hand nonchalantly. "Now, are you going to help me to the briefing room or shall I just slide to the floor in an undignified heap where I stand and ask Elizabeth to convene the meeting here?"

"If it wasn't for the Hippocratic Oath..." Carson muttered as he placed a supportive hand under one of Rodney's elbows while John took the other.

"Oh, I reckon you could call it a mercy killing. Putting him out of our misery."

"Your comedy skills never cease to amaze me. Perhaps you and Carson could create a double act. The Abbott and Costello of Atlantis."

Carson snorted. "Aye and maybe we should see what happens when we let go of your arms, Rodney?"

"Could be great for a laugh," added John. "A little slapstick."

"Oh, too late. We're here." Rodney pulled away from both men and entered the room as if he had made the journey heroically all by himself, leaving John and Carson staring at his receding back. By the time they stepped into the briefing room behind him, Elizabeth was looking a little annoyed.

"Glad you decided to join us, gentlemen," she stated with a sardonic rise of one eyebrow.

Rodney folded his arms and put on his most smug expression, hoping it would cover up the tension he felt. Although he had spoken to Carson about what happened between him and John on the planet, he did not feel ready to discuss it openly, especially as Elizabeth had also invited Zelenka and Bates to the debriefing. John looked just as disconcerted at seeing Bates present though he had taken in Zelenka's presence without a flicker of surprise. Being a genius, Rodney understood why Zelenka was there. Having refused to allow Rodney to examine the Wraith device, in the erroneous belief that he needed the rest, they must have handed it over to Zelenka.

He stifled a yawn and admitted, albeit unwillingly and only to himself, that maybe they were not so wrong, as he did feel in need of more sleep. Lots more sleep. He looked across the table, expecting to see John glaring at him for his attitude earlier but, instead, he looked concerned, and faintly distressed and guilty too. Rodney wished he could get through to John's often dense skull that he did not hold him personally responsible for what had happened to him on the planet. He knew John, Teyla and Ford had done everything within their power to save him.

By the time they dragged him out of the hut, all prepared as a virgin sacrifice, the drugs had lost their grip on him, leaving him scared but fully aware of what the Esterians planned for him. Gerson had spent the previous hour trying to instill instructions into him but all he had heard were the garbled words of pain, penetration and virgin. His chaotic thoughts had steadied since then and now he could actually hear and understand those words spoken by Gerson.

 _There will be pain on penetration, because you are a virgin with men. You must not fight it, or the pain will be tenfold. Do you understand?_

He had not understood at the time for the knowledge had brought back half-forgotten memories, letting them play through his mind in glorious Technicolor as he remembered hiding within the thick branches of tree while the boys attacked Jeffy. Jeffy had boosted him up into those branches; his light, six-year-old body so easy for his far older cousin to lift. Staying quiet had been the hardest part, balanced precariously on the fork of two thick branches, with his hands clapped across his ears so he could mute the terrible cries of agony and the grunts of the boys shoving hard into Jeffy from behind. Silent tears streaming down his face had made his vision hazy but he still recalled the dark red stain against pale flesh, running down Jeffy's inner leg when the boys finally stopped hurting him and ran away with their triumphant cries filling the stillness of the evening air.

Someone out running had stumbled upon Jeffy, stopping long enough to see his condition and then sprinting off so fast, abandoning them, so Rodney thought at the time...until he heard the sirens and saw the flashes of light back lit against the slowly darkening sky. He watched from the cover of the leafy branches as men in uniform dropped down beside Jeffy, watching as his pale, pain-filled face rose up to find his within the tree. Other faces looked up. Strangers, like the boys who had chased them, like the boys who had hurt Jeffy, and he was terrified that, this time, they were coming for him.

"Rodney?"

He looked across the table in shock upon hearing his name, having not realized that he had drifted almost a lifetime away from this room. John was watching him carefully, eyes intent upon his. Rodney took strength from those eyes and from the strong voice, just as he had on Esteria. He nodded tightly, indicating that he was fine...for now. Then he noticed that everyone had stopped to watch him carefully. Those who knew what had happened on Esteria looked concerned, while Bates and Zelenka could not mask their confusion. Secretly, Rodney hoped they would not have to learn the truth.

The meeting seemed to drag on after Zelenka explained the nature of the Wraith device, with everyone debating the ulterior motives of the Esterians. However, with nothing to go on but mere speculation, Rodney was the first to slap his hand down on the table in irritation, bringing the heated exchange to an abrupt halt.

"I don't think we have a lot of choice. We need food, Elizabeth."

Elizabeth sighed because Rodney was right. They needed the food that the Esterians were willing to trade with them. Without it, they would not have the strength to fend off the coming Wraith attack, and they did not have the luxury of time to go off searching for another source of supplies. She looked at Rodney, knowing how difficult this had to be for him, and for John Sheppard. Rape was a terrible crime but, in this instance, there could not have been worse timing or a worse victim. They needed Rodney with all of his attention focused on the coming threat and, more importantly, on figuring out ways to resolve the problems facing Atlantis. Zelenka, Simpson and Kavanagh were excellent engineers but Rodney had something in addition. He had a flair for problem solving that was so at odds with some asinine comment she had once overheard that he had no imagination. If anything, he could be a little too imaginative on occasion, working himself up into a full blown panic attack over the impending battle, probably because he understood all too well the almost insurmountable odds they were facing. He was too clever, too astute, and too knowledgeable when he chose to be.

Keeping him focused was easy if he had but a single task for he could be frighteningly single-minded in his pursuit of a problem but Elizabeth knew he was being pulled in a hundred different directions all at once. The shield, the ancient database, the scant remaining Naquadah generators, even basic city operations within Atlantis called for his attention. It was probably the single downside to Rodney getting the artificial ATA gene. Too many of the key ancient systems required a knowledgeable ATA operator even after initialization. Carson had no success with Zelenka, Simpson or Kavanagh when he tried the gene therapy on them and he had been working on and off with Rodney to see if they could figure out why it worked on less than half of those given the gene, so that left only Rodney with the necessary skills and the ATA gene. Of course, Zelenka, Kavanagh and Simpson had managed to cope admirably without Rodney on numerous occasions by using someone like Carson or Grodin to activate consoles on demand but the potential for error was enormous, causing more than one city-wide incident when doors froze leaving some people trapped while others lost all privacy.

There was more to it than mere inconvenience though. Elizabeth knew Rodney felt incredibly guilty about Dumais, Hayes, and the other scientists who died from the nanovirus, wondering if they would still be alive if he had focused on the gene therapy problem with Carson rather than on the weapons platform based on the outer edge of the star system. She knew he believed that Gall and Abrams would still be alive too, if he had not insisted on taking them along to give them some off-world experience. As head of the science department, Rodney felt the pain from each and every death on Atlantis, and more so for those directly under his control, people he had worked with, people whose names he had learned, whose faces he had come to recognize beyond the confines of the laboratory. She understood his pain for she carried the same doubts and inadequacies, wondering if her decisions could have been better, wondering how many would still be alive if she had taken a different approach to a problem.

Months of mind-breaking hard work, of sleepless nights and stressful missions had taken their toll on him. He was still full of self-recrimination from losing the ZPM to the Quindozum, the Brotherhood, seeing every potential death in the battle to come as his fault for being so candid with Allina. The end result had left him working harder and for even longer hours, determined to find some way to get the shield raised using what little power they had. When he was not fixing problems, he was searching through the Ancient database, looking for anything that would show them how to manufacture a ZPM. He was convinced that there had to be a laboratory somewhere in the galaxy, possibly even within Atlantis.

He had put aside that project following an overheard remark from one of his juniors, which had brought out a streak of compassion within him. She had been crying, wishing she could tell her mother how much she loved her one last time. Others simply wanted someone--anyone--to know what had happened to them, the risks they had taken, the successes, the failures, the gains and the losses, and they wanted to talk about the newfound family they had come to love and respect so far from home.

After spending days without rest, using every moment of his spare time working on a way to send that message back to Earth, he had been walking around like he was spaced out on drugs. His thoughts had been drifting, his mind too tired to grasp the intricate concepts required for solving the problematic equations of power consumption rates in order to increase the yield output by the generators. Sending him on the Esterian mission was supposed to have been a way of forcing him to rest, making him take time out to think about only one situation that needed his undivided attention. Teyla could have handled that trade agreement on her own, backed up by Bates' team but Elizabeth had believed it was for Rodney's health of mind that he should be the one to negotiate.

Perhaps her own exhaustion had lulled her into believing it to be the answer to the potential Rodney burnout problem but, instead, she had handed a difficult negotiation to someone who was already overloaded mentally. In hindsight, it was hardly surprising that he had overlooked the relevance of that single clause: offer a blessing.

How many of her other ideas had seemed so good at the time only to turn around and slap her in the face?

"What about the Athosians on the mainland?"

"Much of this year's crop was ruined by the storm. There will not be sufficient to feed everyone on Atlantis for more than a few days."

"How long will our current supplies last?" Carson asked.

"If we increase rationing to all foodstuffs, we could survive another two weeks," John answered but she could see the doubt in his eyes because, in two weeks, the Wraith would be almost upon them. If the Wraith laid siege to Atlantis, as they had ten thousand years ago then, even if Rodney managed to get the shield up by some miracle, victory would be short-lived if the survivors of the Atlantis expedition died a slow death through starvation--unless they risked gating to another world.

Rodney huffed in annoyance. "Morale is already at an all-time low. Most of our people are scientists. They need food to fuel their brains, and without them working at top capacity, we are dead."

Elizabeth saw John wince because Rodney was right yet again.

Bates spoke up. "Perhaps we should allocate rations according to a person's key importance in protecting Atlantis?"

"Oh and exactly how are you going to determine who is more important than another?" Rodney answered angrily. He snapped his fingers. "I know, let's not feed the soldiers. After all, without the shield there is precious little they can do except form a line as wraith bait while the rest of us gate off Atlantis to face an uncertain future elsewhere. Or maybe we should ask the Athosians to hand over all their food and starve to death for the good of their Ancestors' descendants. No, I have it. We should tell the nurses and doctors to stop eating as there is nothing we can do for Wraith victims anyway so what good is their voodoo science?" Rodney sighed heavily, leaning back in his seat now he had made his point. "Everyone is important. Everyone has a key role to play...and even if that was not the case, I couldn't sit there eating while someone was starving to death right beside me."

If the situation had not been so serious, she knew John would have piped up with some derogatory comment at that statement; one that was meant to defuse the tension in the air. As it was, he stayed silent, biting his lower lip to still the natural laconic retort that must have been hovering on the tip of his tongue. Instead, he spoke in all seriousness.

"McKay's right, Sergeant. We can't institute a tiered ration plan and not see morale fall apart completely. We have to go back to Esteria and get the supplies we need to see us through the coming attack."

"Bearing in mind that this could be a Wraith trap, who would we send?" Zelenka asked, reminding Elizabeth of the reason why they were deliberating so hard on this issue. Rodney answered.

"You said the implant activated only once per Esterian day and I'd certainly recall having the equivalent of an epileptic fit while I was there, so--"

Zelenka interrupted, "Rodney must have gated off-world to Atlantis before the first transmission was sent to the Wraith--"

"Which means the Wraith have no knowledge of an ATA gene carrier having been on the planet recently," Rodney finished.

Even so, Elizabeth knew it was only a matter of time before the Wraith started culling on Esteria, if they had not already reached that world. Grodin had managed to track the three hive ships on a direct path for Atlantis but Athosian myths and legends spoke of many more of these great ships. However, that was a risk they took with every step through the Stargate. She looked around the table.

"Then we are all agreed that we have to return to Esteria for supplies?" Elizabeth looked at each person in turn, seeing agreement, however unwillingly given.

"Whoever returns to Esteria must not fall foul of their laws of the blessing."

Elizabeth looked to Teyla, grateful that she was the first to raise the issue that was forefront in her mind now that they had decided they had to return to Esteria. Except for herself, Carson and John's team, no one knew about Rodney's rape and John's participation in it, and she knew they had all hoped to keep it that way.

"As much as I hate to say it, Elizabeth, I'm probably the safest person to go back to that planet right now."

Rodney held her eyes, deliberately avoiding John's, whose face had tightened in anger. From the corner of her eye she could see John's head shaking negatively and she understood his desire to protect Rodney from greater harm, either mental or physical.

Elizabeth gave John a stern look. "I have to agree--"

John snarled. "You already know what they did to him--"

"And by that very fact, they cannot do it to him again." She hated sounding so callous but they had to force personal issues aside. She watched as John's eyes glinted in anger, his lips thinning as his mouth tightened to a bloodless slit.

"Fine," he snapped back. "But once on Esteria, he doesn't leave my sight."

Elizabeth nodded, fully aware that John had planned to be part of that mission whether she liked it or not. If anything, having him watching over Rodney would be an added bonus, relieving some of her fears of letting Rodney return to a place where he was sexually abused, especially as Esterians would consider John to be blessed already so he would be safe from their ritual. In addition, it gave John something to do while Rodney fulfilled the Atlantean end of the bargain and provided the Esterians with the self-sufficient water purification system that they needed so badly.

"Agreed."

"We still require a full team of engineers to fulfill our side of the agreement," Rodney reminded Elizabeth.

"Most of the digging can be accomplished by military personnel," Teyla stated, gaining a raised eyebrow from the soldiers present.

"Why would they be any safer?" John asked.

"When I realized how seriously the Esterians took this blessing, I implied that soldiers were different to the civilian population on Atlantis. Unless one remarks that he or she has not been blessed then they should remain safe."

Elizabeth turned to John. "Is there going to be a problem with US military policy?"

"Maybe we should find out now." He turned to face Bates. "Sergeant, if anyone on Esteria asks if you have had anal intercourse with another male, will you have a problem saying yes?"

Bates looked a little shocked and colored slightly before his expression returned to its normal battle-ready blandness. "If the mission requires it, then I'll have no problem, sir."

"The same must apply to all the men who go with you, and any females must not be virgin," Teyla added.

"Again, I agree." Elizabeth noticed Bates looking to Rodney as the pieces of a puzzle slowly settled into place in his mind. She could see him adding up everything he had learned and, finally, understanding the tense undercurrent within the briefing. She sighed in relief as he nodded gently, seeing compassion rather than disgust or pity in his dark eyes as he looked between Rodney and his CO even though he could not know that John had been the one to rape Rodney. Perhaps he simply recognized the friendship between the two and knew how such an attack upon Rodney would affect his CO.

In contrast, Zelenka still looked confused, as if he had started to figure out something that could not add up without terrible results for his friend and colleague. Shock came with enlightenment and Elizabeth felt moved to speak.

"What happened to Rodney should not go beyond these four walls--"

"Oh please, Elizabeth," Rodney stated almost in disgust. "Do you think it will remain our big secret after we get to Esteria? The whole village stood there and watched, chanting and cheering. You think no one is going to mention it?"

"He has a point," added John. "But before we go any further, I have already drawn up a list of our people who ought to be safe loading up the supplies." He passed copies around the conference table and Elizabeth smiled in approval of each name on that list, noticing that John's was at the top, confirming her suspicion that he had always intended to lead any mission back to Esteria.

"We send a four man team through first, with the rest to follow once they receive the all clear." John looked around the table. "Me, Bates, Teyla and Pullman."

Elizabeth pictured the Canadian corporal, recalling that he was openly gay. The Canadians were far more comfortable with gays in their military, seeing no need for any specific policies to address that issue.

"Sir?"

Ford looked uncomfortable at not being on the point team, and Elizabeth could see him wondering if his exclusion had anything to do with his perceived failure to protect Rodney on the last mission. John gave him no chance to state his personal view, as if he had already anticipated Ford's response.

"If this is a trap then as second ranking officer, I need you to stay on Atlantis to coordinate city defenses."

"With all due respect, Major, I should lead the initial contact team so that, if this is a trap then we will not be sacrificing the senior ranking officer less than two weeks before the Wraith arrive in Atlantis."

"I agree with Ford."

John stared across at Rodney, eyes glinting dangerously. He looked around the table and saw the slight nods of agreement from all of the civilians. "Bates?"

"I concur with the Lieutenant, Sir."

"Fine," he snapped back though Elizabeth could tell that he was not happy at all with the consensus, preferring to lead his men from the front rather than from behind the lines. "Alright...Lieutenant, you will lead the contact team, and I will follow with McKay and the engineers once you give the all clear."

"Yes, sir."

****

As the meeting began to break up, Elizabeth leaned across and placed her hand on Rodney's arm. She spoke softly. "You should get some rest. Dr. Zelenka can handle the final preparations."

She could tell from his lack of argument that he was far more tired than he let on. As he left the room, Elizabeth was not the only one to watch him go and, briefly, she met John's concerned gaze. He managed a weak smile before pushing to his feet and following Rodney through the door but, as he left, she noticed the lack of bounce in his step. Silently, she wondered if they could ever move past this incident on Esteria. Her only hope was the resilience of both of these men. She sighed deeply. Perhaps the situation would look a little brighter in the morning.

****

John followed Rodney, keeping at a relatively safe distance in the sure knowledge that Rodney was too tired to notice his unwanted shadow. He saw the door to Rodney's room open as the scientist approached, smiling in spite of his miserable mood at the ease with which Rodney used the ATA gene these days. His ability to manipulate the ancient technology had grown almost exponentially since that first trial with the personal shield. John wondered if it was Rodney's precise thought patterns that had helped him make the transition so easily where others, even those with a natural occurrence of the gene like Carson, still struggled with the basics.

John leaned against the corridor wall and thought about it. Although he would rarely admit it, he had a mathematician's mind, seeing problems with the directness of what Rodney called the hard sciences. Of course, even mathematics had its share of gray areas, its flairs of intuition and flights of fancy but most were disguised as leaps of logic once the full reasoning behind each leap was resolved. Could his mathematically constructed mind explain why both he and Rodney manipulated the gene with such ease?

Perhaps, he and Rodney were far closer to the mindset of the ancients than most of the others. He gave a lopsided smile as he thought of the Mensa test his teacher had made him take. The scientists on the expedition were quick to gloat about their score, using it almost as a measure of their competency and as their justification for being on this expedition. Kavanagh, in particular, would avoid having conversations with anyone whose IQ rated more than 30 points below his own--or with anyone whom he perceived was only of average intelligence--unless under duress.

John's half smile became a grin when he recalled how someone had leaked his IQ to the science department. He had never given much store by intelligence quotients before but he had greatly enjoyed watching Kavanagh squirm when he discovered that John's IQ was higher than his. At least it meant the man was more likely to listen to whatever he had to say from now on.

All this brought his thoughts in full circle back to Rodney McKay, the man with the highest IQ on Atlantis, and probably one of the highest in both galaxies--for a human. Although he had never asked directly, John had a strong suspicion that it had been Rodney who had leaked that information. Whether it had been out of a desire to see him treated with respect rather than as a grunt, or whether Rodney had simply wanted to piss off Kavanagh was still a mystery. Unfortunately, either reason could be true were Rodney was concerned.

The door to Rodney's quarters opened suddenly, and Rodney was standing on the threshold, watching him. When he spoke, his voice was flat, holding resignation.

"If you're going to hover then you might as well do it inside."

John pushed away from the wall and entered Rodney's private domain for the second time that day, wondering how Rodney knew he was there. He slumped onto the chair beside the bed and accepted a mug of something hot and bitter that passed for coffee these days. John took a cautious sip and watched as Rodney took off his shoes and dropped onto the bed, his blue eyes closing. Dark circles shadowed beneath them, more noticeable in the light emanating from the small bedside lamp, left John feeling guilty for being there when it was obvious that Rodney needed to rest. He set the mug down and started to rise, the movement causing one blue eye to open a slither.

"Don't go."

"You need to get some sleep."

"Can't."

"Why not?"

"Dreams."

"About what happened on Esteria?"

Rodney gave a short bark of a laugh. "Surprisingly...No."

"The Wraith?"

Rodney opened the other eye, staring at John intently. "Let's forgo the game of twenty questions." He looked away. "I can recall most of my childhood." He gave a rueful smile. "Not just impressions of good moments, and bad moments. The memories seem to be imprinted like...a movie that I can play back at will."

"So I guess part of that movie is stuck in a playback loop."

Rodney frowned. "Yes...The analogy seems to fit."

"Which part?"

Rodney looked away again, deciding not to misunderstand the question. "I was six years old and my cousin had taken me to the park. I could already work out the mathematics of moving bodies; calculate the arc of the swing, the speed of the roundabout relative to the force applied. Basic math. But I would forget all about the math when I was with Jeffy. He would make the swing go so high I thought I would launch into orbit if I let go, and he'd make the roundabout spin so fast I had to hold on for dear life or I'd fly off like a bullet." Rodney frowned again. "He was a lot like you. Reckless...Fun."

"Was?"

"I never saw him again after that day. His parents moved away after the...the rape. I think they blamed me for what happened that day."

The question, whose rape, burned within John even though he was certain it was Jeffy and not Rodney who had been abused that day, but he shied away from asking, hoping Rodney would explain in his own good time. Instead, he decided to ask why anyone would hold a six-year-old to blame for what happened.

"Because I laughed at those boys when they couldn't figure out a simple piece of division...forty cigarettes between five boys."

"Guess they didn't like being outsmarted by a little kid."

That crooked smile lifted one corner of Rodney's mouth. "Guess not." He looked across at John. "They never touched me. Jeffy hid me up a tree, but I saw what they did to him, and I saw how much they hurt him."

The frown returned. "I've been stuck in that tree ever since...terrified to climb down. Just waiting for those boys to look up and drag me down...and the day came when it finally happened." He opened both eyes then, staring at John. "Except you were there to catch me."

John did not know what to say so he sat quietly, watching Rodney intently. Even so, he flinched when Rodney stood up abruptly, puzzled when Rodney gave him an unreadable look. John sat up straighter in surprise when Rodney grabbed the waistband of his blue science top and shrugged out of it, letting the top fall in an untidy heap on the floor. John's mouth went bone dry, his eyes fixed on the strong, very male chest with its spattering of light brown curls and small, hard nipples. He felt an instant surge of arousal, sending the blood pooling southwards, and he shifted uncomfortably in the chair.

When Rodney's hands dropped to the beige pants, teasing open the button and fly, John found his voice.

"Rodney? What are you doing?"

His hands stilled momentarily, his eyebrows arching in a mixture of exasperation and disbelief. When he let go, gravity took his pants to his feet where he stepped out of the pooled material, casually kicking the clothing aside. He stared at John for a moment longer as if silently deliberating his actions before pulling open the bedside drawer and removing a small jar. He unscrewed the top and placed it carefully on top of the small cabinet before grasping the waistband of his boxers and pulling them down, leaving him standing almost naked before John--clad only in his socks.

When John's brain clicked back into some semblance of self-awareness, he discovered that he was standing with barely three feet separating him from a very naked, wonderfully naked Rodney McKay. He swallowed hard as his eyes took in the softer lines and curve of muscle, his body reacting to his memory of the sight, scent and touch of the revealed body. Rodney licked his lips, nervously, and John could no longer resist, taking a single step forward. He gasped as Rodney's hot body stepped into his arms, feeling the heat through the thin layer of his black cotton t-shirt. Lips sought his, pressing chastely at first with tiny swipes of tongue and small nibbles but John wanted more, needed more. He pressed in, forcing one clad leg between Rodney's naked thighs, lips devouring the mouth opening beneath him, tongue thrusting into the heated interior in a mockery of possession. His hands grasped at warm, silken flesh, drawing Rodney's solid presence closer as if he could melt into his skin.

Murmurs of desire and of approval vibrated between their close-pressed mouths, reverberating through him to the core of his soul, sending flares of desire burning within him, consuming him. He obeyed the urgent demand of hands dragging at his clothing, breaking their soul-deep kiss to pull off his t-shirt, and gasping from the sheer pleasure of flesh on flesh. Sharp teeth were nipping at his lower lip again, drawing him into another deeply possessive kiss and John clung to Rodney, desperation filling him as the heat of his passion seared through to his nerve endings. Yet he wanted more than the press of skin against skin, more than the searing kisses that melted his bones. He wanted to feel himself inside Rodney again. He wanted to feel the tight sheath of flesh surrounding him, wanted to possess Rodney without duress, without fear, and without an audience.

"There's no one else here. Just you and me," Rodney murmured into John's mouth, and John held him tighter, giddy with pleasure at hearing his own words from the Blessing sent back to him. His hands fumbled with his pants while simultaneously toeing off his sneakers, fingers trembling as he let the pants drop to the floor along with his own underwear. He maneuvered Rodney backwards, following him down onto the narrow bed, legs dangling over the side, heads almost slamming into the bedside cabinet. His hands ranged down the soft skin, mapping curves and dips, rolling the tiny amount of fat sitting over Rodney's sides. Love handles, his mom had called them on his dad, and now he understood why for they felt so good in his hands, offering a perfect hold on his lover. He smoothed over the softened flesh, running his hands down Rodney's flank to trace the gentle curves of his ass with his fingertips. The extra flesh cushioned the sharpness of Rodney's hip against belly, comfortable and oh so perfect.

Beneath him, Rodney began to squirm; trying to turn over and John knew he wanted to freely offer everything John had been forced to take on Esteria. John stilled him with strong hands upon his pelvis. He pulled back and looked deep into desire-filled eyes, momentarily caught by the brilliant corona of azure blue surrounding lust-dilated pupils.

"I want to see you. Would that be okay?" His voice was hoarse and tremulous, a little afraid that Rodney would suddenly realize what was happening and pull away in fear. He stroked one hand through Rodney's hair, soothingly, feeling the slightest shudder as one finger brushed against the curve of his ear.

Rodney nodded, forcing his muscles to relax until he was lying quietly upon the bed, still holding John's eyes with more trust than John believed he could ever deserve from any person, let alone Rodney. It warmed places within him that had been colder than the Antarctic, thawing the ice from a lifetime of hard decisions and loveless relationships. In that moment, he knew he loved Rodney.

John drew him into the sweetest kiss, almost passionless and yet holding emotions that went far deeper than sexual fulfillment. When he pulled back, he encouraged Rodney to open himself to him, pushing back his legs to expose him, fully awed by the willing vulnerability and the trust given. He dipped his fingers into the slippery gel, knowing it would have to suffice as a lubricant, and pressed one finger against the tight ring of muscle, rimming the edge in firm circles before slowly pressing inwards. Rodney began to writhe upon his finger, encouraging deeper penetration, and he heard a soft gasp of pleasure as his finger raked over that sensitive place deep inside, followed by one of annoyance when he almost fully withdrew instead, only to add another finger. With gentle thrusts, he opened Rodney, preparing him for what they both needed and desired. His body was trembling now with need and he could feel tremors running through Rodney too when he removed his fingers and pressed the head of his penis against the loosened entrance.

"Want this," he whispered. "Want you."

Rodney's smile was beautiful, his eyes sparkling with awe and joy, as if John had given him every birthday and Christmas present he'd ever wanted, wrapped up in those four simple words. Seeing Rodney's consent, John pushed in, kissing away the few tears of pain that trickled between his squeezed-closed eyes, knowing they would soon pass. Words of reassurance fell from his lips as he pushed in slow and steady, resisting the incredible urge to sink hard and fast into the precious body below him, stopping only when he was fully sheathed. Panting erratically, John stilled, planting soft kisses on the wet eyelashes and on the down turned lips while he waited for Rodney to adjust to the pressure filling him. His fingers wrapped around Rodney's pain-softened erection, stroking slowly, feeling the change in Rodney's breathing from ragged gasps of pain to softer pants of pleasure as muscles relaxed, taking John in further. Small needy sounds replaced the gasps as Rodney began to rock into John's hand, the tiny thrusts causing exquisite sensations as the tight sheath of muscle contracted rhythmically around John's hard flesh.

He dared to move, drawing back a fraction before pushing forward into the hot channel, glorying in the pleasure that swept over with him with each tiny movement. Rodney had thrown his head back, hands clutching at John's hips and John squeezed hard on the Rodney's erection, bordering momentarily on pain, forcing Rodney to gasp and look back at him.

"Want to see you come." His voice was hoarse with need but he smirked at the blush that heightened the color of Rodney's cheeks.

"Voyeur," he retorted shakily, and John grinned, overjoyed that he had managed to drag a verbal response from Rodney. In everything else, Rodney was always so loud, so strident and talkative so it felt disconcerting to have him lying so silent beneath him. He had expected Rodney to be a screamer or a talker during sex, running off at the mouth just as he did in other out of control moments. This silence was too like the Rodney who would sit for hours with his head buried in Ancient text, or lost in some convoluted theory within his PC. Controlled, intensely focused...and John wanted neither of those in his bed. He wanted Rodney gibbering so he could shut him up with a kiss, wanted to hear guttural moans of passion and screams of ecstasy, of focus lost and rigid control smashed into tiny pieces. He wanted Rodney writhing in wanton pleasure beneath him, crying out his name as he came just so John could say that, this time, Rodney had not laid back and thought of Canada.

John took Rodney to the brink, over and over, watching the incredible blue eyes glaze over at the very edge of orgasm before dragging him back.

"John." Rodney looked wild-eyed by the third time and John knew that neither of them could hold back a fourth time. He was so close too, his muscles quivering in desperate need of completion. "John...please...need...please.."

The incoherent words rolled over John as he took mercy upon both of them, thrusting hard and deep into Rodney even as his hand sped up. He heard the strangled choking of his name as Rodney tensed, watched as Rodney's eyes rolled back in a faint as hot fluid coated John's busy fingers, flooding between them with each jerk of the flesh in his hand. So beautiful.

Then he lost all thought as his own climax swept over him, destroyed and reborn in a single ecstatic breath.

John had no idea how long they lay in a tangled heap of limbs before he realized how heavy his unresisting weight would be upon Rodney. He pulled back carefully, not wanting to hurt either of them, hissing as his oversensitive cock slipped from the hot, tight channel. John flopped carefully to one side, pressing close to Rodney so he would not fall off the narrow bed, with one arm thrown across his lover's still heaving chest.

Through glazed eyes, Rodney stared back at him. He raised one arm, wiggling his hand almost bonelessly. "That was..." Lost for words, he shook his head and grinned.

"Yeah, it was," John agreed, and leaned over to kiss the smiling lips. "Think you could sleep now?"

"Oh yeah," Rodney breathed, his eyes closing, those long lashes beating against his cheeks for a moment before stilling into sleep.

John stared at the quirky, handsome face, amazed once more by the youth and innocence exposed in sleep. Eventually, his fatigue caught up with him, and John closed his eyes, letting an image of Rodney's sated smile carry him into a warm and dreamless sleep.

****

Gerson was waiting when they stepped through the gate, having received the all-clear from Ford. Beside the gate was stacked a veritable mountain of grain, fruits and what passed for dairy products. All of it had been vetted as safe for the Atlanteans and Athosians during the negotiations, though Rodney knew Carson would want to do his own final check before handing it over to the expedition's culinary experts.

That thought made Rodney smirk a little as, before coming to Atlantis, he had paid little mind to the culinary arts beyond eating what was set in front of him. Others talked of fine dishes with barely pronounceable names, of eating specialized fungus and the spawn of certain fish but as long as there was McDonalds, pizza and Doritos, Rodney had been content. If anything, the blander the meal, the more he enjoyed it as then it would not distract him from the true meaning of his life -- his quest for knowledge.

Sorry, can't think about quantum and particle theory right now as my brain is overloaded on the explosion of taste from this exquisite piece of fungus dipped in chocolate, he thought snidely, then licked his lips at the memory of chocolate. Damn, but he missed chocolate, and nothing they had found came close to recreating the texture and pure indulgence of a mouth-melting, endorphin-raising, addiction-feeding, sugar high of chocolate.

Still, after months in Atlantis, he had learned to appreciate the ability of those culinary experts in turning some of the truly terrible tasting, though admittedly nutritious, Pegasus galaxy products into something edible. He just hoped they could do the same for the Esterian supplies as, despite common belief, even he grew tired of PowerBars and MREs occasionally.

Teyla eased the initial strained moment as they greeted the person who had orchestrated his rape, though Rodney had fully intended to put aside any animosity and fear anyway, and not only because he had questions that Gerson might be able to answer. He could not feel animosity for the man who had healed a childhood wound and given him something he had been searching for, unknowingly, all his life -- the strength and touch of another man in his arms. And not just any man, for Gerson had given him John Sheppard.

Rodney looked down and surreptitiously glanced sideways at John, feeling a little jolt of shy pleasure from knowing he had woken up in John's arms only a few hours ago to the feel of soft kisses and gentle caresses. They had made love again, slowly, with hands wrapped around each other's hardened flesh, moaning in wonderment and appreciation as the sensations ebbed and flowed with wave upon wave of pleasure until they were swept over the edge in a glorious rush. Hot semen spilled over their fingers, slicking between their close-pressed bodies to smear over belly and chest. He had forgotten how good morning sex could be, though he had a strong feeling it had never been as good as having John's hand around him and John's breath gasping his release into Rodney's mouth even as he captured Rodney's cry of ecstasy.

John caught his look and the scowl lifted from his face momentarily before he became all business again, striking a slightly intimidating pose that placed him and his P90 with a clear shot of Gerson should he try anything. Which was ludicrous, really, but Rodney found it a little reassuring to know John was taking his protective stance seriously. Still he hoped John would not intimidate Gerson to the point where he might refuse to answer Rodney's questions.

Some concerned the Wraith device that had been implanted within him and yet others concerned the glyphs painted onto Rodney for the Blessing ceremony.

Kavanagh had completed the search for possible coordinates from those seven glyphs. Using the one placed over his heart as the origin, the database had yielded two hundred and fifty four addresses. This was a far cry from the seven hundred and twenty that he and Grodin had dialed when first arriving on Atlantis in the hope of finding where the Wraith had taken Colonel Sumner and the others captured on the Athosian home world. He, Kavanagh and Grodin had gone to the main computer access room, where Carson had first discovered the message left by the Ancients, calling up a map of the Pegasus galaxy. Focusing on the glyph denoting the origin, Rodney had mentally sought its location within the galactic map only for it to highlight an area devoid of any stars, which begged the question, what could be at the origin? A rogue moon or asteroid? A space platform? Or nothing at all? Maybe whatever was once there was destroyed ten thousand years ago by the wraith, or by the Ancients. Initially, he had a theory, that the actual address painted on him was Esteria from that area of empty space but programming in all of the gate addresses found by Kavanagh revealed none even close to the Esterian Stargate. Rodney tried calculating the Esterian address from that empty portion of space, just in case the address was missing from the database by some fluke but the glyphs did not match up with those painted on him.

This left him with two mysteries. First, what was in that area of empty space and, secondly, what was at the two hundred and fifty four addresses discovered in the ancient database and why were they not directly accessible from Atlantis?

Of course, Rodney believed he had sufficient skill and knowledge to dial into those gates from Atlantis by bypassing the triangular control panel and inputting the individual addresses mentally. If they took a Puddlejumper then they would have the on-board DHD for the return journey to Atlantis but Elizabeth had denied him permission to even attempt to dial up the point of origin address. He understood her reasoning all too well. With the Wraith almost upon them, they had no time to spare for unplanned missions. They had to prepare for the attack, and that meant fulfilling their side of the trade agreement and getting these supplies back to Atlantis as quickly as possible.

Rodney began ordering the team Zelenka had prepped towards the area where he and Gerson had agreed to set up the water purification system. It was halfway between the Stargate and the village, which relieved Rodney no end as he never wanted to see that place again despite all that he had gained in John. The prefabricated sheets made the erection of the building meant to house the control center far easier to construct and within a few short hours, Rodney was standing inside the building while the sound of digging carried on beyond the thin walls. In front of him stood the control panel that he had specifically constructed to work off power generated from natural elements on Esteria so that the Esterians could maintain it for as long as they needed it. It would control the flow of water between the different filter tanks, automatically removing the naturally occurring chemicals that had to be processed manually up until now.

Movement behind Rodney made him glance over his shoulder, expecting to see John coming in to check up on him as he had done so regularly since arriving, though he thought John had been forced to return to the Stargate to deal with a small incident there. He opened his mouth to admonish John for the interruption but found a stranger standing behind him. Except, the Esterian had a familiarity about him that made Rodney's flesh crawl.

"McKay."

"Yes? Can I help you?" He tried to keep his tone arrogant and uninviting but he could hear the slightest quiver in his voice that brought a feral smile to the stranger's lips. His eyes flickered to where he had dropped his Kevlar vest and sidearm, and he began to inch towards them as dark eyes drifted down his body in a far too intimate gesture, lingering on first his eyes, then his mouth and finally his groin. The man stepped between Rodney and his equipment. He licked his lips, his eyes burning with a hunger that sent Rodney stepping backwards until he came up against the control panel and could go no further.

"I see you remember me. I am honored...and yet disappointed too for you should have been mine at the ceremony."

Rodney swallowed hard as everything fell into place and he recalled the six Esterian warriors who had been selected by Gerson and the village council. If John had not agreed to take Rodney's virginity then Rodney would have been forced to choose one of those six warriors. Though why this man believed he would have been the one chosen was pure arrogance. Rodney could not recall anything about him that set him apart from the others. Though, in truth, Rodney had barely noticed the men's faces at all, too traumatized by what had already been done to him, and too terrified by the way those men flaunted their naked bodies and stroked hard erections that they intended to shove up his ass given half the chance.

"I'm sure you'll find someone else."

"I do not wish for another. I wish for you."

"Well...gee...I'm sorry, but I'm already taken. So, if you don't mind, I have work to do." Rodney tried to snark his way out of the situation, his eyes widening when the man covered the distance between them in three steps and slammed into his body. The flash of metal in the ray of sunlight streaming through the window made Rodney's heart skip a beat, his body recalling the terrible agony of a knife slicing through his arm as Kolya interrogated him. He was spun around, hearing cloth tear as cold metal touched his skin, and feeling the coolness of the air against his suddenly naked ass. "No!"

Rodney shoved back hard, hearing a grunt of pain as the back of his head slammed into the man's face, hopefully breaking both his nose and his grip on Rodney. Something slammed into the side of Rodney's head, making his ears ring and his vision gray. Common sense told him it had to be the hilt of the knife but, by the time his stunned thoughts had come to that conclusion, a new pain ripped through him, one that he had experienced in a far gentler form the night before. He screamed out in anger and in agony, desperately trying to dislodge his attacker, crumpling to the ground when the weight moved away suddenly. A jumble of voices yelled out above him.

"I have taken him. He is mine now." The hated voice snarled angrily.

Rodney rolled over, staring up at the scene in shocked horror to discover his rapist on one side of the room, Teyla and Bates on the other with Gerson and two Esterians standing between them. Teyla dropped to her knees beside him, her dark eyes both confused and horrified by this turn of events. Rodney knew what she was thinking. He ought to have been safe. He should have been safe.

"He has the right," Gerson was saying apologetically.

"Not with our people," Bates grated out in response, his hand tightening on the P90; face a cold mask of fury.

Teyla spoke up from beside Rodney. "Major Sheppard has already taken him. He belongs with the Major."

Gerson shook his head. "I wish I could accept your words but the Blessing is not a ritual for the individual. It is a ritual for all of the people; a celebration of adulthood, not of partnership."

"In other words, you say it doesn't count," stated Bates, menacingly.

Rodney was almost relieved that they had informed Bates of the whole truth, that John had been the one to take Rodney during the Blessing.

"No...I'm sorry. Landras has the right...unless another warrior will challenge--"

"I'll challenge him," snarled Bates, and Rodney was not sure what shocked him most, the fact that Bates was willing to fight for his virtue or the fact that he was doing it out of caring rather than duty. He had always believed the man hated him, disgusted by his weaknesses, and by his ego and arrogance.

Landras grinned, and Rodney noted that he had blood on his face, trickling down from his nose where Rodney had slammed back into him. Teyla helped Rodney to his unsteady feet, helping him to drag up his torn pants and wrapping her coat around him to cover his dignity. They followed everyone outside to where the Esterians and Atlanteans had formed a circle. Bates stripped off his Kevlar and P90, drawing out a wicked blade from its sheath and holding it menacingly. His lips curled into a sneer as he faced the Esterian across the circle.

Part of Rodney was confused, his thoughts rolling back and forth. It should have been John fighting for him and yet, he was relieved that John was not facing Landras, but Bates was an unknown quantity, if he should lose? And what happens if he wins? Would they expect Bates to claim him, publicly?

Landras slashed at Bates, who jumped back, the knife barely missing. He circled cautiously, knife steady in his hand, looking for an opening and darting in. The knives clashed, bodies brought in close and Landras head butted Bates, who snapped backwards, bringing up his knife in time to parry a potentially killing blow. Bates nodded his approval, grinning through bloodied teeth from a cut lip. Slash and parry followed but all Rodney could think of was John, and then John was beside him, his chameleon eyes filled with concern and confusion.

"Landras has laid claim to Dr. McKay. Sergeant Bates has challenged him for that right."

"He has, has he?" Rodney recognized that tone of displeasure.

Teyla laid a hand on John's arm. "He is protecting Dr. McKay for you. He is aware that you slept in Dr. McKay's room last evening, as are we all."

John swallowed hard and glanced towards Rodney in concern before his eyes darted back to the fight. Landras was good. He was fast and accurate, slicing into Bates' arm, across his side but he did not count on the tenacity of the man, and his desire to protect his people at all costs. A momentary lapse of concentration and Bates stepped within Landras' guard, his knife arcing upwards, beneath the ribcage and straight into the heart. Landras dropped like a stone to the ground, eyes frozen open in sudden death while Bates stood back and casually cleaned the blood off his knife on the side of his leg.

Gerson stepped forward. "It is rare for a warrior to challenge to the death but Landras made his choice when he picked up his knife. McKay is yours."

Bates' quirked a smile, as if it was an honor he could well do without. He turned to Rodney but his eyes continued on after a heartbeat and stopped at John. "With all due respect, sir. I'll leave Dr. McKay with you."

John nodded slowly, a measure of respect passing between the two before John turned to Rodney, his eyes widening as he took in the blood seeping down the side of Rodney's face and his torn pants. John's lips pressed tightly together.

"I'm okay," Rodney stated softly. "Bates stopped him from..."

"We're going back to Atlantis now, and I don't care what Elizabeth says. You are never stepping on this world again...ever."

****

"I need to go back."

"Not gonna happen," stated John categorically.

"The chances of...that...happening again are--"

"I'm not about to take that chance. There were five others at that ceremony, standing there eager for a piece of your ass. Are we going to have to fight them all off? It's bad enough I have to leave anyone else there while the work's completed. I trebled the guards so everyone has at least two others watching their backs...and that includes the guards!"

Rodney had flushed bright red in embarrassment at John's outburst. "Elizabeth...Kavanagh and I have questions--"

"Then let Kavanagh go do the asking. You are not going back there." John exclaimed.

"I have a job to do and I cannot--"

"Rodney," Elizabeth interrupted him this time. "At this moment in time, those questions are not important. Yes...maybe there is something at those gate addresses, and maybe there's something at the point of origin. Maybe it has a weapons platform or even a ZPM. But we don't have the luxury of time to investigate what could end up being a wild goose chase." Elizabeth frowned. "Rodney?"

She noticed his eyes taking on a faraway look, mouth slightly ajar. She thought she heard him murmur, "Weapons platform," before his eyes slid away. Elizabeth could see him doing mental calculations as a smile flickered against his lips but he said nothing more. Whatever thoughts had taken him from them he was keeping to himself, probably until he had figured everything out.

"Rodney?" His attention snapped back to John. "You are not going back...and that's final."

"Oh...that's fine." He waved a hand nonchalantly. "If we get through the next few weeks then we could always go see if the Esterians are still around, or just check out those gate addresses ourselves."

John frowned and Elizabeth had to bite back a smile, knowing that Rodney was able to baffle John almost as much as John confused him, although Rodney seemed oblivious of his actions whereas John did so for sport. Still the results were the same either way. Her smile faded as Rodney turned his head, revealing the dark bruise stretching into his hairline over his ear from where Landras had hit him. The blow had been stun force only, causing no concussion but violent enough to make him vulnerable to the attack that followed. Carson had released him from the infirmary right after the examination, saying there had been no real damage. Secretly, Elizabeth wondered if recent sexual activity had eased that possibility of damage. John spending last night in Rodney's room was no secret even though she suspected both men might have wished it to be the case.

"If we're finished here then I have a lot of work to do. I'll be in the lab with Radek."

"Okay," Elizabeth nodded her head, sparing just the smallest glance towards a still baffled John Sheppard. She watched as Rodney quickly left her office, one hand moving as he continued to map those mental calculations, too engrossed to notice that he had used Zelenka's first name.

"What just happened here?"

Elizabeth raised one eyebrow at John. "In truth, I haven't a clue." Her thoughts turned serious. "He is going to be okay, John."

"Yeah. He's a lot tougher than he makes out. Suppose he's had to be over these past months."

"You give him that strength, John."

"I think...it goes both ways."

The smile came unbidden to her lips as she watched John leave, knowing he would head straight back to Esteria to finish the terms of the agreement. She sighed. Bates had found a possible alpha site so she had to start making all the necessary final arrangements for the evacuation of Atlantis.

****

 **Epilogue:**

The rest of the trade agreement went smoothly with no more incidents raised on either side. Kavanagh even offered to speak with Gerson but the Esterian leader had no answers for him, and no one made any sexual overtures towards Kavanagh either, which actually miffed him. Perhaps the Esterians had decided to forgo their beliefs for the remainder of the trade agreement, rather than risk open conflict.

As far as Gerson was aware, the reason for the glyphs and for the ritual of placing the Wraith device inside each person upon reaching sexual maturity was lost in the annals of time. Dutifully, though, Kavanagh recorded the few legends that Gerson could recall in the hope that it might shed light on their past but the recording, along with the gate addresses, was put aside in the face of the more imminent threat.

Teyla's nightmares had led them to a startling revelation about her genetic makeup, and to the terrifying knowledge of what the Wraith intended to do once they reached Atlantis. Through it all, Rodney pressed on with the idea that had come to him during that meeting with Elizabeth. The Lagrange point satellite seemed dead in space and he and John had taken no time to check it out following the deaths of Gall and Abrams. All they had wanted to do at the time was get home with their dead. Yet, poring through the data collected, both he and Radek were convinced that the weapons platform may have simply run out of power. Between them, they convinced everyone else that a single Naquadah generator might be enough to bring it back to fully operational.

Of course, John had wanted to be the one to pilot the Puddlejumper despite his resigned offer at the meeting. Perhaps he thought that if he did not sound too eager and desperate then Elizabeth might just overlook the fact that as ranking military officer, he was needed in Atlantis. However, anyone with the ATA gene could have become a glorified shuttle pilot for the two days it would take to reach the satellite, repair it, and get home. Even Carson, but only John could help them locate a new alpha site after the previous one was tagged by the Wraith.

No undue pressure.

It all sounded so simple on paper and if saying goodbye to Radek was tough then saying goodbye to John would have been near impossible, so he didn't--not in words. Instead, he had snatched a few hours with John the night before the meeting, worshiping every available inch of flesh on the lean body, learning every curve, every plane, and every flex of muscle. Committing all of his lover to memory; every wrinkle, every scar, every pore and even the odd angles of his hair. If John suspected anything then he probably put it down to the approaching Wraith and Rodney's fear of the known outcome should they not find a way to protect themselves and Atlantis.

When they made love, they held on so tight Rodney could feel the bruises forming--and he didn't care. He wanted the marks, wanted the pain, wanted the exquisite pressure of being filled, of being possessed by the man he loved. He wanted to drive out the memory of Landras, replacing it with beautiful images of John. His legs had tightened around John's waist, urging him to thrust harder and faster and deeper, urging him to wipe away all thought but for the man in his arms, in his body; to lose all sense of awareness except for the love and the pleasure, driving away all thoughts of the Wraith and the future as he held on tightly to this single precious moment in time.

The meeting broke up and Rodney stood still as John brushed past him, hearing the underlying bitterness in those echoed words--no undue pressure.

He should have told John of his intention, if only to prepare him for the separation. John thought they still had a few days, hoping they could spend a few more hours together, knowing it might never be enough but grabbing for what little they had. But this was a chance Rodney had to take. Elizabeth was right. That satellite was the only thing standing between them and three Wraith hive ships bearing down upon them.

Rodney was surprised to see John standing next to Elizabeth as he approached the Puddlejumper, pushing his cart of tools, computers and possible spare parts before him. He could see Peter and Miller already inside, stowing away other pieces of equipment and checking the EV suit that Rodney would be forced to don once they reached the satellite. Although Peter had the ATA gene, he did not have the technical expertise required to connect up the Naquadah generator.

Elizabeth stepped forward and grabbed the trolley. "I'll take this in for you."

"Oh...okay." He was not a complete idiot when it came to social interactions so he understood why Elizabeth had offered to leave him alone with John.

"You should have told me," John stated softly.

"You would have tried to stop me from going."

"Zelenka could handle this."

"Maybe...if everything turned out to be straightforward."

"You're the expert on the city. We need you here," John stated in earnest.

"There nothing more I can do here that Zelenka couldn't handle with ease. He's a clever man...almost as clever as I am, though if you tell I said that--"

"Goddamn it, Rodney. I need you here."

Rodney swallowed against the lump that formed in his throat. "And I want to be here...but I have to do this."

John closed his eyes, resignation apparent on his handsome face. His eyes opened again and he reached across to grip Rodney's shoulder, fighting the urge to do far more but this was too exposed a place for intimacy. Rodney placed his hand over John's, squeezing it in return.

"Just come back in one piece, okay?"

"Believe me; I'm not planning any heroics."

A single intense look, filled with all the words they could not speak aloud in the hangar bay, had to suffice for their goodbye. John turned and strode away; only turning back once he reached the threshold of the hangar bay. Elizabeth joined him and, together, they watched as the ceiling opened. She raised her hand as Miller angled the cockpit window towards her and John...and then they were lifting away.

As the atmosphere gave way to the darkness of space, Rodney swallowed hard. The LaGrange point satellite was their last hope and Rodney's only regret was that, should he fail, then he would have lost those last few precious days of comfort and love, with John. Yet, if it succeeded then they would have the time they needed to explore this new relationship.

It had to succeed.

THE END

-


End file.
